


Blood Runs Deep, But Love Runs Deeper

by persephone_garnata



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alpha Dean, Alpha John Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Horses, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Modern-day cowboy au, Omega Sam, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Raised Apart, Slow Burn, dubious consent outside Sam/Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_garnata/pseuds/persephone_garnata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mary's death, John can't cope with caring for both a four-year-old and an Omega baby, so he gives Sam up for adoption. Dean is raised in the life of hunting and vengeance, but never forgets his long-lost little brother.<br/>Sam grows up on a ranch in Texas, surrounded by an unusual but loving family.<br/>Eventually, fate brings them together again.</p><p>Summary will be changed/expanded as the story grows. See notes for additional information/warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Earliest Memories

**Author's Note:**

> A few warnings/promises.  
> This story features both sex and violence, so please don't start reading if you're not okay with that.  
> Specific content warnings can be found in the notes for each chapter (please let me know if you think anything needs to be added to these notes).  
> Yes it's an a/b/o story with a thorough exploration of those dynamics, but there will not be any dubious consent in the central relationship, which will be loving and consensual. Having said that, Sam and Dean are raised apart in this story, so when they meet, they won't necessarily know all pertinent information about each other.  
> I am not going to kill either Sam or Dean.  
> There will not be mpreg.  
> I am not going to make any other promises.

Blood Runs Deep, But Love Runs Deeper

 

                Dean Winchester’s earliest memory was of his parents presenting him with his two-day-old brother, all wrapped up in a soft blanket, no skin to be seen except a tiny scrunched-up face. He held the precious bundle as carefully as he could, terrified of dropping him even though he knew his mother’s arms were hovering close by, ready to catch the baby if he should fall.

                ‘Now Dean,’ his mother said to him, with a tired-but-happy smile, ‘this is Sammy, your little brother. He’s an Omega, like me. He’s very rare and special, and very delicate. So I want you to take good care of him, just like your Daddy takes care of me.’

                Dean looked up at the looming figure of his Alpha father, dark and distant and slightly scary, and then looked back at his beautiful mother crouching beside him, her kind face framed with blonde hair, and then back down at the scrap of life squirming in his arms. The eyes – still baby blue – opened and gazed up at him in what seemed like wonder. Instinctively, Dean rocked him slightly, and made a little noise at the back of his throat.

                ‘I promise,’ he said, solemn as only a four-year-old who knows promises are never to be broken can be. ‘I’ll look after him. Always.’

 

***

 

                Samuel Singer’s earliest memory was of being tucked up in bed, running a high fever and half-delirious, his three sisters gathered round him. The eldest, Ruby, sat at his feet, reading to him from a story book about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, while the middle one, Jo, held a cool damp washcloth to his swollen face, and the youngest, Bela, sat by a bucket filled with iced water, ready to refresh the washcloth. The room was stifling in the August heat despite the best combined efforts of sisters, air conditioning, and an electric fan perched on his bedside table.

                Then his mother came in, and a tall man he hadn’t seen before came in with her. Ruby fell silent and closed the book, keeping the place with her thumb.

                ‘This is Dr McIntyre,’ his mother said.

                ‘And what’s your name, young man?’ the doctor asked, deftly settling himself by the bedside, avoiding the bucket of water. The girls scooted out of his way and then gathered round closely again.

                ‘Samuel, or Sam,’ he tried to say, but his lips and tongue were so swollen, and his head so fuzzy with fever, that it came out wrong, and he ended up saying ‘Saluel, or Sal.’

                ‘Okay, Sal,’ said the doctor, ‘it looks like you’re a bit sick right now, but we can make you better soon. I’m just going to examine you, see if we can figure out what’s wrong…’

                Behind his back, the girls started giggling at his mistake, until their mother shushed them, and now Dr McIntyre was too far into his talk to correct him. He felt around Samuel’s face and neck, took his temperature with a thermometer under his tongue, and shone a tiny flashlight into his eyes. Then he stood up and spoke to his mother, with words which Samuel barely understood at the time but would remember later.

                ‘Well, Mrs Singer, it’s an infection of his scent glands. Luckily we have the drugs to treat it now.  Young Omegas are prone to infection there as the glands develop. We’ll need to make sure we get it cleared up now and keep an eye on him, or he may get problems later when his hormones kick in. He has a very delicate system, you know.’

                His mother nodded, and glanced over at him. She smiled. ‘Yes, I know.’

                Dr McIntyre smiled too, though less warmly. ‘I think we should discuss…’

                ‘Yes, of course. Let’s go downstairs.’

                The two adults left the room, leaving him to the mercy of his sisters, who started to tease him.

                ‘Your name is Sal,’ Bela said, ‘sounds like Sally.’ The others giggled.

                ‘That’s a _girl’s_ name,’ said Ruby. ‘Suits you. You’re _delicate_.’

                They all giggled again, and jeered at him, calling him Sal and Sally, calling him a girl, calling him delicate, calling him an Omega. He was far too weak to make any protest.

After an unmeasured amount of time, their mother came in again, her face stony.

                ‘Don’t tease your brother like that,’ she snapped. The girls fell silent. She crouched by his side, grabbing the washcloth from Jo’s hand and dipping it into the bucket of cold water.

                ‘Actually Sal is a boy’s name,’ she said, her voice rough but affectionate, ‘so he can be called it if he wants. I think it suits him.’ She applied the washcloth to his forehead again, and smiled at him. ‘And yes, he is delicate, that’s why we’re here looking after him. Because we love him.’

                Samuel felt a wave of gratitude for her, as the blessed cold of the washcloth seeped into his over-heated skin. His sisters muttered apologies and clustered around him again, eager to shower him with care and affection. And he decided, half-delirious as he was, that he would call himself Sal from now on, because his mother had told him he could, and that would show his sisters.


	2. To Be Born, and Then Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean remembers Sammy, and the night his life got burnt away.  
> Sal Singer's parents tell him where he comes from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the chapter is angsty and features a brief mention of animal (specifically, horses) suffering and death. The second part is happier and has some exposition for how this particular AU is set up.

To Be Born, and Then Reborn

               

Dean remembered that he kept his promise, for the first six months of his brother’s life. Only four years old himself, he couldn’t help much with practicalities like feeding or changing him. But he soothed the baby when he fretted, cradling him in his arms and muttering nonsense at him, gently booping his button nose and letting his tiny hands grab his wrist. He could calm him down, stop him crying, like nobody else could – not their mother, and certainly not their father. And Sammy always smiled for him, big toothless grins that lit up his face and made Dean feel like the most important person in the whole damn world.

He could – just about – remember their ranch house outside Lawrence, Kansas: the porch out front where his mother gave him home-made lemonade, the paddock out back where his father lifted him onto a pony for the first time. His memories of this time, his first life, felt soft and warm and fuzzy, but also distant, like a sepia-tinted photograph of a place that no longer existed.

Then came the memory of the fire, and the night his life was burnt away, to be replaced with a new life, cold and hard and unforgiving. He remembered his mother’s screams, and the screams of the horses out in the stable as the flames spread from the house to the outbuildings and burnt them all alive. Not everyone thinks horses can scream, but Dean knew better.

Then the brief period between the old life and the new, when his memories grew indistinct, fogged by tears and confusion. His mother gone, he didn’t understand where, or why she couldn’t come back. His home gone too, his father dragging him and his brother through a succession of dreary motel rooms, and then winding up at a run-down ranch in Colorado owned by a sour-faced, angry man called Daniel Elkins who always smelled like whiskey and scared Dean. But then, his father had turned sour-faced and angry too, and now nearly always smelled like whiskey and scared Dean. Sammy wailing night and day, not understanding anything of what was happening. Dean, barely understanding more himself, trying his best to give him comfort although he had none to give.

And then came the day Dean remembered, more clearly than anything. The day his new life began. The day his father took his brother away, and never brought him back.

‘Where’s Sammy?’ he demanded, when John returned to the ranch. He’d been bored all afternoon – he could remember it had been raining, and Elkins had been asleep on the couch, snoring and stinky, and he’d had nothing to amuse him but an ancient set of dominoes. His father had gone out earlier, taking Sammy but not Dean – which had confused and upset Dean, but then almost everything confused and upset him in those days.

John sat down heavily, and poured himself  a slug of Jack Daniel’s from the bottle Elkins had left on the floor, close to his unconscious hand.

‘Sammy’s gone,’ he said, and drank, downing all the liquid in one go.

‘Gone? Where?’

‘To somewhere better.’

‘You mean with Mommy? When will they be back?’

‘No,’ John winced, and poured more whiskey. ‘He’s not with Mommy. I’ve given him to some people who’ll see that he goes to a family who can take care of him.’

‘But I can take care of him, I promised…’

John shook his head, as if it weighed a ton. ‘No, Dean, you can’t. You’re too young, and I’m too… well, I don’t expect you to understand yet, but your little brother is an Omega, he needs a softer touch, a woman’s touch, your mother’s touch…’

At that, his voice broke, and he downed the second glass.

‘But I promised!’ Dean cried, ‘I’ll look after him, please Dad, let me go with him…’

‘No, Dean, I’m not giving you up. You’re an Alpha, you’re strong, you can help me find the thing which did this to us.’

‘What thing? Dad, what’s happening? I want Sammy back, I want Mommy back, I want…’

John surged to his feet, and flung the heavy tumbler across the room, where it thudded on the threadbare carpet but did not break. Elkins snorted and shifted in his sleep.

‘That’s enough, Dean! I am your father, and I am doing what’s best for this family, and that’s final. Your brother is gone, and he’ll be taken care of. Stop worrying about him. We have work to do.’

‘But Sammy-’

‘Shut up, Dean! He’s not your brother any more. Forget about him.’

Dean, shocked into silence, didn’t ask any more questions. John sat down again, and poured yet more whiskey. Dean crouched by his dominoes, biting his lip. He’d obey his father, in appearance at least. He knew he didn’t have any choice. But he vowed to himself, there on the floor of the shittiest ranch in Colorado while the rain beat down on the windows, that, whatever his father told him, he would never forget his little brother.

And that was a promise he kept.

 

***

 

On a sunny day in September, Sal Singer learned the truth. A peaceful afternoon, no noise but the happy shrieks of his sisters playing in the yard and the background noises of cattle and horses. He had been watching his sisters, trying unsuccessfully to join in with their games, when his mother and father beckoned him to sit with them on the porch where they were drinking ice tea. He approached, nervous, wondering what he’d done wrong.

‘Now, Sal,’ said his mother, ‘come and sit with us. You’re not in trouble. We just want to talk to you.’ She smiled at him, and Sal relaxed. His mother’s face often looked angry, the corners of her mouth turned down, her eyes hard, but when she smiled… everything softened. He clambered onto one of the wicker chairs and sat there, legs swinging, waiting for what they would tell him.

‘You’re just about to start elementary school,’ she said, ‘and before you do, we want you to know the truth about your background, just in case any kids try to give you hell about it. And if they do try, you don’t let ‘em, you hear me?’

‘Yes, Mommy.’ Sal crinkled his forehead in confusion, but his mother sat back, apparently satisfied with his answer. He glanced over at his father, who sat with his hands folded over his belly, battered cap pulled low over his head. Bobby gave him a nod, but didn’t speak.

‘You need to know,’ his mother said, ‘your background ain’t like all the other kids.’

‘I know already. I’m an Omega. I have to be careful of my neck, and my moon system.’

She gave him half a smile. ‘That’s right, Sal, but that ain’t what I’m talking about right now. You see, your name wasn’t always Samuel Singer.’

‘What was it?’

‘Your original name, until you were about six months old, was Samuel Winchester, and you were born in Kansas.’

Sal opened his mouth in surprise. ‘I don’t remember that.’

‘You wouldn’t, you were too young. Your first parents were called John and Mary Winchester, and you had a brother called Dean.’

‘A brother?’ Sal had always wanted a brother. ‘Can I see him?’

Ellen shook her head. ‘I’m sorry Sal, but no. That isn’t your family any more. Your Mommy was killed in a fire, and your Daddy decided he couldn’t look after you, so he gave you to an orphanage, and they gave you to us. We adopted you, so we’re your family now. And we love you very much.’

Sal opened his mouth again. He didn’t even understand all the words she was using, but he gathered his life hadn’t been quite as simple as he thought. Then something occurred to him.

‘Ruby and Bela and Jo, were they all dopted too?’

His father made a huffing sound, and his mother smiled, but looked rather tired. ‘We’re a complicated family, Sal,’ she said. ‘I’ll try to explain.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Me and Jo, we used to live up in Nebraska, with a guy called Bill who was Jo’s original Daddy. Our last name was Harvelle then. Then Bill got himself killed in a hunting accident, and Jo had no Daddy for a while. But I was always her Mommy.’

She took another sip. ‘Meanwhile, your Daddy here, he and Ruby lived up in South Dakota with Karen, who was Ruby’s original Mommy. Then she died too, and Ruby had no Mommy for a while. But he was always her Daddy.’

Sal’s head was spinning with all this information. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said in a small voice.

‘That’s okay honey, we don’t expect you to understand all this just yet, but we wanted to tell you anyway, before someone else could tell you. You’ll come to understand in time, don’t worry.’

She reached forwards and patted his head. ‘So me and your Daddy, with our little girls, both of us were in a bad way for a while. Left our home towns, drifting around. Until we both wound up in Texas, met each other and got the damn-fool idea we ought to buy an old ranch and settle down, make us a new family.’

The two of them looked at each other, and Sal could tell by the way they looked how much they loved each other, and that even though his mother called it a damn-fool idea, she didn’t really mean it.

‘So we got married, and Jo and me took the last name Singer, to match Ruby and your Daddy. And then, a couple years later, we adopted Bela. Now she was originally called Abby Talbot, but she don’t like to be reminded of that name, ‘cause her original Mommy and Daddy were not very nice to her.’

‘Why not?’ asked Sal. He didn’t understand how parents could not be nice to their children. Ellen shrugged.

‘Damned if I know. But the important thing is, we’re her family now. We’re all family.’

For the first time, his father spoke. ‘You remember this, boy. Blood runs deep, but love runs deeper.’

‘I’ll remember,’ said Sal, earnestly, feeling like it was very important, even if he didn’t really understand it. Maybe one day, he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, as ever, comments are very welcome.  
> I'm on tumblr www.tumblr.com/blog/persephone-garnata


	3. Smells Like Horses, Smells Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sal both grow up around horses, but their experiences are very different. Dean finds in riding a solace from the harsh life of hunting, while Sal is put off riding by an incident when he is young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a description of a bloody injury.

Smells Like Horses, Smells Like Home

 

Slowly, Dean grew accustomed to his new life. The warmth of his mother replaced by the coldness of his father, the sweet caramel apple pie smell of Omegas replaced by the sharper, earthy tang of Alpha musk, the rock-solidity of his Kansas home replaced by the endless road. Only one thing in his life was certain any more: they must get their revenge on the creature,the demon, which had killed Mary and destroyed their old lives. His father’s quest for that revenge soon became all-consuming, widening into a hatred of all the supernatural creatures which crawled the earth, narrowing into a need to sharpen and harden himself and his son into blades which would fight evil wherever they found it. And find it they did.

Almost before he could even read, Dean was plunged into a punishing training regimen, both mental and physical: weapons, research, hand-to-hand combat, stealth. At the many elementary schools he went through, he knew he could take down any of the teachers, never mind that they all had at least two feet and a hundred pounds on him. By the time he made it to junior high – the dizzying succession of them – he knew he could take down just about anyone human, and most non-humans too.

 Although he had hated every second of his first stay there, Elkins’ ranch in Colorado became his new favorite place, the closest thing he had to home, and his father left him there for long periods. Elkins might be an old drunk, and the house might be practically falling down around his ears, but he looked after his horses all right. He let Dean help out in the stables, taught him how to ride and how to care for the horses. And Dean took to the work like he had never taken to anything since he’d lost his brother, feeling in the firm reassuring press of horse-flesh the promise of stability and trust and friendship. He could go into the stables, close his eyes, breathe in deeply the smells of hay and horse, hear the soft sounds of the animals, and imagine he was back in Kansas. It was only a fleeting feeling, but it was better than nothing.

As his father took him out on more and more hunts, he learned how to kill or otherwise vanquish various things – vengeful spirits, strigas, demons, witches, a whole roster of monsters. He obeyed his father, made him proud, because he never saw any other option. This was his life now, and there was no point in fighting it.

Except he did, in secret. Whenever he could, in libraries when he was supposed to be researching folklore, or at Elkins’ ranch when he had finished grooming the horses, he tried to find out what had happened to his Sammy. He discovered the details of orphanages and adoption agencies in Kansas, especially those which specialized in finding homes for unwanted Omegas. He called them all up – pretending to be a woman because he knew they wouldn’t speak to a child, and his unbroken voice was too high-pitched for him to pretend to be a grown man. He claimed to be a journalist. They refused to tell him anything. He called them again, doing a different voice, claiming to be from a government agency. They still refused to tell him anything. He called them all again, this time pretending to be nobody but himself, and confessed he wanted to find his little brother. They were very sympathetic, assured him his brother had been found a good home and was happy now, but still refused to tell him anything. At first, he didn’t understand why they wouldn’t tell him. After all, he loved Sammy, and only wanted to find him so he could continue taking care of him, like he had promised. Later, he would come to understand exactly why a young Omega needed to be taken care of, and why the adoption agencies were quite right to be wary of someone trying to track one down. His father would make sure he understood.

For now, he gave up his search – but only for now. He knew that, as soon as he grew old enough, got his drivers’ licence, and his father put him on a longer leash, he would start looking again. He would never forget his little brother, or his promise to himself.

In the meantime, he spent his summers at the ranch, with the horses. He rode as much he could, learned to ride bareback, and even entered a few rodeos, coming first in his age category nearly every time. Not that any of that impressed his father, who cared only about tracking down that demon and killing as many evil things as possible on the way. Then Elkins taught him how to break in troublesome horses. He took to the task as easily as he had riding, soon becoming better than Elkins himself at gaining the animals’ trust and asserting himself as master. When he was fourteen, he even managed to get a saddle on the fierce Alpha stallion Elkins had inherited from a neighboring ranch when the owner died, and ride him for miles at a gallop.

He boasted of this success to his father when he came to collect him for another hunt, and John looked at him over his glass of whiskey, his eyes heavy with drink and sadness.

‘You’re good at controlling horses because you’re an Alpha, and they can smell that,’ he said, gruffly. Dean tried not to let his father’s tone damp his pride in his own accomplishments. It wasn’t _just_ because he was an Alpha, he felt sure of that.

‘Being an Alpha ain’t everything,’ he said. John huffed, and finished his drink in one gulp, then poured himself another before answering.

‘You say that now,’ he said. ‘You’re young, you haven’t mated yet. When you find a mate – it all changes.’

Dean sat silently. He recognized that look on his father’s face. It was the look he got when he was about to start talking about his beautiful dead Omega wife, and the unbreakable, irreplaceable bond they had shared. And it always led to the same outcome – tears and regrets and broken glass.

‘You find an Omega you really love, you bond with her, and that’s it. Mated for life. And you’ll do anything to protect her, anything. And believe me, there’s a lot she’ll need protecting from.’

John looked up, and something in his face changed, hardened.

‘But you don’t really understand, do you? You haven’t seen many Omegas, since Mary... Maybe you’ve met a few girls at school, but they haven’t reached maturity yet. And you sure as hell haven’t seen the dark side. Well, I think it’s time you learned how things really work.’

With that, John downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and grabbed his car keys. Dean knew better than to suggest he’d had too much to be getting behind the wheel.

‘Put your coat on. I’m going to show you how things are.’

Dean swallowed, his mouth dry, but he got his jacket, and followed his father out to the Impala.

 

***

 

Sal grew up around horses, but never really grew to love them the way the rest of his family did. His mother gently suggested that perhaps his scent put them off, and when his parents bought a docile Omega filly named Daisy, they promised he could learn to ride her as soon as he was old enough. They had heard that Omega horses would accept Omega riders better, and perhaps they were right. But something that happened when he was seven put him off riding entirely.

He remembered that day quite clearly. A summer morning, a day that promised heat at last after a week of unseasonal cold and storms. He was eating breakfast out on the porch with his father and the elder two of his sisters. His mother and Bela had already saddled up, and came riding by. Bela rode Daisy, her palomino coat shining in the sun, while Ellen rode Cheyenne, a large but placid bay mare.

‘I’m taking Bela out for her first long ride, gonna try to get her up to a gallop on the top field,’ Ellen announced, and smiled at her daughter, reaching over to gently pat Daisy’s nose.

Bela smiled back, nervously. Unlike Jo and Ruby – who were both blonde and tall for their age – Bela was small and dark-haired. Although Daisy was one of the smallest ponies in the stable, she still looked tiny perched on top, and her face was almost hidden beneath an over-sized riding helmet. Ellen wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, her blonde hair tucked away.

‘You girls be careful,’ said Bobby.

‘We will, Daddy,’ said Bela.

‘We won’t go too far, just up to the old crossroads then back again before it gets too hot,’ said Ellen, ‘we’ll be back in time for lunch, so don’t forget to make potato salad.’

‘We won’t!’ said Bobby.

‘Like hell you won’t,’ Ellen muttered, as the horses started jogging off towards the top field.

They didn’t forget the potato salad. Sal remembered that they didn’t forget, because he helped stir the mustard and mayonnaise together. But it never got eaten, sitting on the kitchen table until the dressing turned.

Ellen and Bela weren’t back in time for lunch, and as time ticked into the heat of the day, Sal and his sisters sat around anxiously while Bobby tried to pretend he wasn’t worried about them.

‘They’ll be fine,’ he said, ‘Ellen can look after herself. Probably Bela liked galloping too much and she’s galloped all the way up the road to the diner.’

‘Sure, Daddy,’ said Jo, but she looked sick with worry. None of them felt like eating.

Eventually, Bobby gave in the pretense, went out to the stable, saddled up his own horse, Ned, and rode out looking for his wife and daughter. He sent his oldest and most trusted stable hand, Rufus, back to the house to take care of the children.

Rufus was great with horses, but less good with kids. He didn’t know any fun games to distract them, and he answered all their questions with honesty rather than reassurance.

‘They’ll probably all be all right,’ was the boldest statement he made, as he rummaged in the cupboard for the Johnnie Walker Blue Label.

Time dragged by, flies buzzing at the screen door, the clock ticking heavily in the oppressive air.  Sal thought it was the longest afternoon of his life, and he couldn’t shift the tight ball of worry in the pit of his stomach, the fear he would never see any of them again.

Eventually, he heard the sound of a horse just outside, and he ran into the yard, closely followed by the others.

His mother and his father and his sister had all returned, with only one horse between them – Ned. Ellen and Bela were on his back, while Bobby led him. They came to a halt and Ellen and Bela almost fell out of the saddle. Sal had flung his arms around each in turn, sobbing with relief, before he paused to look at them properly. Bobby just looked tired and drained; but Ellen had blood running down from a huge gash in her head, staining her hair and her shirt. And Bela was white-faced, her blue eyes wide with a horror only she could see.

‘What the hell happened?’ asked Ruby, and nobody tried to correct her language.

‘Let’s get inside first,’ said Bobby. He gave his reins to Rufus, who calmly led the horse away, making reassuring noises in his throat. Then he scooped Bela up and held her in one arm while he put the other around his wife’s waist and they all staggered up the porch steps and into the house.

Once they were settled in the living room, and Jo and Ruby were mopping the blood from their mother’s face while Sal stroked her hand, they heard the story.

‘Bela here got up to a fine gallop,’ said Ellen, her face proud even with the blood and bruises, reaching out to pat Bela’s shoulder where she sat huddled in Bobby’s lap. ‘All the way up to the old crossroads. But then something spooked poor Daisy, and she went wild. She threw her from the saddle, and came charging into Cheyenne. I tried to stop her, but just got thrown myself for my trouble. Hit my head on a rock and blacked out.’

‘Oh my god mom,’ said Jo, ‘you coulda been killed.’

Ellen nodded. ‘Lucky escape. Got one hell of a headache, I can tell you. When I came to, both horses had run off, leaving us stranded miles from anywhere. Bela here had me cradled in her lap, looking after me. Kept her own head. You did good, girl.’

She patted Bela again and smiled at her. Bela just blinked.

‘She’s in shock,’ said Ellen. ‘And no wonder. Time for bed, I think.’

‘Shouldn’t you go to hospital?’ asked Jo, hesitantly.

‘What’s the point? A long drive to get my head patched up, when you and your Daddy can patch me up here. And we already checked us both for broken bones.’

‘If you’re sure,’ said Bobby. ‘I don’t mind driving.’

‘I’m sure. We’ll be fine. Besides, you and Rufus should go out and find those runaway horses before they get too far.’

As it happened, the horses found their own way home. The next day, Sal saw Daisy in the paddock, contentedly eating an apple from Ellen’s hand, as if nothing had happened. But Ellen had a bandage wrapped round her head, and he knew he wouldn’t ever forget. And he didn’t think he would ever want to learn to ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are very welcome, as ever.  
> I'm intending to do NaNoWriMo next month so this work will probably not update again until December, but please be assured, I have not abandoned it!


	4. Greek Lessons - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes Dean to a show, and he learns more about the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first sexually explicit chapter, and it's a warning for dubious consent, but no main characters are involved. I promise there will be proper, loving, consensual sex in good time!  
> This is Dean's half of the chapter, Sam's will follow, this chapter is longer so I've decided to post it in two halves.

Greek Lessons – Part 1

 

To Dean’s profound relief, they reached their destination without his father wrapping the Impala around any trees, street lights, or other obstacles, although there was a hairy moment when he completely ignored a Stop sign and someone coming from the right had to slam on the brakes. John parked in a dingy side-street and got out. Dean followed. He didn’t know where they were; he couldn’t even have named the town. But his father seemed to know all right.

‘This way,’ he said, and led Dean towards what looked at first like an abandoned warehouse. As they drew closer, Dean saw a crudely painted sign over the door, reading ‘The Heat Locker’, and two tall Alphas standing guard, one man and one woman. Both were armed.

‘This is where Omegas end up, if they don’t find an Alpha mate, or they lose their mate, or their mate doesn’t take care of them,’ John muttered darkly. ‘You’ll see.’

They came up to the doorway, and the male Alpha frisked John for weapons, some of which he found and took off him, while the woman sniffed at his neck. When they were both done, she gave him a nod.

‘You can go in. Cover charge is twenty bucks each. You’ll get your weapons back later, if you don’t make trouble.’

‘Yes Ma’am,’ John said. He gave her $40 in rumpled bills and stood by to wait for Dean. The guards didn’t seem to care about the whiskey on his breath, nor that Dean was patently under any feasible age limit. Dean struggled to believe that John had calmly paid so much money when normally he watched every penny he spent, but apparently he thought this place was worth it.

 The man frisked Dean, same as he had his father – he didn’t find the knife in his boot – and the woman sniffed his neck, then cupped his face in her hands, looking at him in a predatory way he didn’t like at all.

‘You have very delicate features, for an Alpha,’ she said. ‘Such pretty green eyes. You could make a good living, if you wanted to.’

She released him, and he moved instinctively towards his father. He saw a look in John’s eyes which he hadn’t seen directed at him before; a calculating look, weighing up costs and benefits. It soon passed as he beckoned Dean to follow him into the warehouse, but Dean would long remember it afterwards.

When they got inside, the first thing that struck him was the smell, thick and earthy. Alpha musk, overpowering in its intensity. Dean almost gagged at first, and had to breathe through his mouth until he slowly grew used to it. Of course, Alpha musk was a familiar scent to him, but he’d never smelled it like this before.

He looked round. The space was vast and echoey, taking up most of the interior of the warehouse, a long bar down one side, an empty stage in the centre, balconies and walkways above. It was crowded with people, both men and women – but predominantly men. And every last one of them, he realised, was an Alpha. That was why the woman at the door had sniffed their necks – this place had an Alpha-only admission policy. Which was totally illegal discrimination, Dean knew. And God, no wonder they’d been frisked for weapons at the door: Alphas were notoriously territorial and prone to aggression by nature. Oh sure, most of them could control themselves in civilized society, most of the time, but to gather so many of them together in one place and provide them with alcohol? It seemed like a recipe for brawling to Dean, and he could tell several of the club patrons were getting twitchy, their scent turning sour. And there was something else too – an undertone of sexual arousal, the urge to mate, coloring the scent of many of them. Dean hadn’t encountered that particular scent often before, but he recognized it all right, and it put him on edge.

John went to the bar, leaving Dean leaning against a pillar, trying to blend into the shadows. He came back a minute later with two drinks – one a whiskey, the other a Coke. He handed Dean the Coke and beckoned him to some stairs.

‘Let’s go get ourselves a good view of the stage,’ he said. Dean didn’t ask why, but followed his father up to the balcony. He took a sip of his drink. It tasted funny. He realized why a moment later - it had whiskey in it.

John elbowed some of the other Alphas aside to reach the front of the balcony – never a percentage move, thought Dean, and he could see them getting angry with him, but a glower from John and a growl in the back of his throat stopped them from retaliating. Broad-shouldered, over six feet tall, and with an undefinable air of danger, John could intimidate most people, including, apparently, pissed-off Alphas. Dean followed in his wake, hoping nobody would take their frustration out on him. But, he thought, he did have a knife in his boot and he knew how to use it, so let them try.

Nobody did try. They were too intent on looking over the edge of the balcony at the empty stage, eagerly waiting for… something. Dean looked with them, uncertain what was about to happen, but he could sense the rising excitement of everyone around him, including his own father.

Then, without warning, every light in the place switched off at once, plunging them into complete darkness. Dean starting to panic, his heart pounding, but everyone else seemed to be expecting it, and there were several whoops of anticipation. He tried to calm himself, but the unaccustomed alcohol in his blood didn’t help.

After about thirty seconds – although it felt longer – in the dark – a single light came on, focused on the stage. And the stage wasn’t empty any more: a woman stood there, wearing a red dress and a redder smile.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, raising her arms, ‘welcome to the Heat Locker! I hope you’re ready for some action, because you’re about to get it!’

The Alphas made it clear that they were, indeed, ready. The woman motioned for them to quieten down, and went on speaking.

‘We’ve got five red-hot Omega bitches for you, all young and in heat and just gagging for the knot!’

A cheer went up, and Dean’s stomach lurched. He felt queasy, but he didn’t know if the whiskey in his coke was to blame, or the woman’s words.

‘And…’ she continued, ‘for one night only, we have a special treat! Yes, that’s right, we’ve got an Omega stud, ripe and ready!’

This time the reaction sounded a little different – most of the Alphas were still cheering, some with more enthusiasm than before, but mixed in with the cheers were some boos, and some shouts that sounded like ‘freak!’. Dean swallowed on a dry mouth, and took another sip of his drink, but it didn’t help.

The woman on the stage raised her arms again, right over her head, and some more lights came on. Dean glanced over at his father, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but John’s attention was fixed on the stage. Dean looked back, but the stage was still empty, brightly lit, waiting for something.

He could smell her before he could see her. That delicious caramel-apple smell he could remember so well, only dialled up to 11. Sweet and sticky and somehow primal, making his taste buds water, and his dick start to stir. All around him, the Alphas made noises too animalistic to be called cheers, and then the woman emerged onto the stage, and they all went crazy.

She stood blinking in the bright lights, small and delicate and lost-looking, completely naked but for a large ugly collar which covered almost her whole neck. An Alpha man stood next to her, holding the other end of a chain. Dean’s dick surged with blood at the sight, even as his mind recoiled in horror. The scent of her was almost overwhelming.

‘She’s in heat, isn’t she?’ he asked his father. John nodded. His eyes were closed, and he was inhaling the scent, clearly lost in recollection. He stayed silent for a moment, and then shook his head. ‘Of course it’s not quite the same,’ he said, and Dean heard a note of sadness in his voice. ‘This is a chemically induced heat. A real heat, when the Omega finds a true mate… that’s something else. A whole different level. Maybe one day you’ll be lucky enough to find that out for yourself.’

Dean looked back at the stage, as the Omega was paraded around by the Alpha, like a prize horse at a rodeo. Another Omega woman came out, like the first naked but for the ugly collar.

‘Why are they wearing those collars?’ Dean asked. ‘They’re bigger than they need to be, surely?’

John looked at him. ‘You’re sharp,’ he said. ‘But think about it.’

Dean thought about it, trying to recall everything he’d learned about Omega biology. ‘Because… they need to be that big to cover the scent glands?’

‘That’s right,’ John said.

‘But why cover the scent glands?’ Dean asked, as the third woman was brought out. Below, the crowd was surging at the stage, held back by a few burly guards. All around, the Alphas were whooping and growling and yelling what dirty things they wanted to do to the Omegas. In a few places, fights were already breaking out, and Dean could hear the tinkle of broken glass, smell the sharp sour scent of Alpha aggression.

‘Because,’ said John, and he sounded so weary Dean felt almost sorry for him, ‘if the glands aren’t covered, they might try to make a mating bond with the Alphas they’re paired with. And once an Alpha is paired with an Omega…’

He didn’t need to finish that sentence. Dean understood. He’d heard it often enough from his father already. Once an Alpha is paired with an Omega, he’ll do anything for her, go to any lengths to protect her and keep her from harm. And to keep her from other Alphas. This sordid show would hardly work if the Alpha keepers felt like that about their Omegas and starting trying to fight for them. Hence the over-sized collars.

Two more women were led out; and then Dean smelled something different. Something still sweet, but with notes of amber and something faintly spicy. Something that reminded him of his baby brother, love and comfort and that long-lost home, but which also sent every drop of blood in his body to his crotch. Male Omega, he knew. Male Omega in heat. And all the other Alphas knew it too, baying like wild animals.

The man came onto the stage, nude and collared like the rest, and Dean was astonished at how tall he was, especially next to the petite Omega women.

‘I thought Omegas were usually small?’ he asked John.

‘Usually,’ said John, ‘but sometimes they get big. Like this guy. Don’t ask me why. Just a freak of nature, I guess.’

He didn’t say that word with any malice behind it, but Dean didn’t like hearing it from his lips anyway – he could hear it from enough other people, all around him, part of the chorus of growls. And other words too. Man-bitch. Knotslut. All kinds of slurs he’d been taught never to say, and a whole load of suggestions too about what the Alphas wanted to do with their knots, some of them sounding anatomically difficult and downright painful. Dean had only recently developed his own knot, and the only thing it had ever swelled inside was his own right hand. He had always struggled to imagine what it would truly be like to feel the intimacy of his body locked together with another’s. John – on the one occasion he’d ever broached the topic of the facts of life with his son - had told him that making love with the right person, with a mate, was a beautiful, magical experience.

There was nothing beautiful or magical about this. Dean felt the strange mixture of nausea and desire roiling in his stomach, threatening to make him throw up over the edge of the balcony. He threw back the rest of his whiskey-laced coke in the hope that it would steady his nerves, then gripped the railing in front of him with both hands, fixated on the display below.

As the woman had promised, there was plenty of action. Fucking, to be precise. Not making love, that was for sure. The first Alphas on stage picked his partner up, hauled her into position, and slammed into her, rough and hard, in time to the cheers from the crowd, until his knot swelled and he raised his arms in triumph. The Omega woman, looking dazed, clung to his neck, held in place only by that grip and by the knot inside her cunt.

‘Are the Omegas… willing?’ Dean asked John, after the first Alpha carried his partner to the side of the stage, still firmly knotted together. John half-shrugged. ‘Mostly,’ he said, ‘it’s a gray area.’

That wasn’t what Dean wanted to hear, but his father had never been one to sugar-coat the truth. ‘They’re un-mated, they’re poor, they’re vulnerable, they’re desperate,’ he added. ‘This way, they can earn some money. But it ain’t pretty. That’s why… it’s why we need to protect them.’

And finally, Dean understood. As he watched the show continue, with each Omega pulled into a more uncomfortable position and given a hard fucking before being knotted, he understood more than his father had probably intended him to understand, about why he’d given away his baby brother. Because that was what their lives were – un-mated, poor, vulnerable, desperate. And if John could have made some money from sending his brother to perform in a show like this one… well, Dean knew that there were few things they hadn’t been forced to do, and even if they had never sunk quite so low as this, the possibility would always have remained.

Now all the female Omegas had been knotted, and the male Omega was led forwards to a crescendo of noise from the crowd. Dean watched in horrified fascination as he was pushed onto all fours and then mounted by his partner, while – the evident climax of the show – the woman who had first come on stage shed her red dress, lay down beneath the male Omega, and pushed herself onto his erect cock, rubbing her enlarged clitoris against him.

And Dean made himself another promise, to go with the others he’d made years before – that if he ever found Sam, he would not only take care of him, he would never, ever let him take part in anything like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> This story has only a couple of comments so far - I can see it's been getting quite a few hits, kudos, and subscriptions, so I know you're out there, but y'all have been shy at sharing your thoughts. I love comments, so please, let me know what you think! Even if there are things you're not so happy about.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr www.tumblr.com/blog/persephone-garnata


	5. Greek Lessons - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal gets a school lesson in Omega biology, and meets some new people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty light-hearted, although there is a little bit of school bullying.

Greek Lessons - Part 2

Sal never did learn to ride. This set him apart from the rest of his horse-mad family, except for Bela. She too had remained nervous of riding, ever since the accident. The two of them preferred to stay indoors with their noses stuck in books while their sisters and parents went cantering around the fields and up to the creek or the crossroads. Bela developed an interest in ancient history, religion, and the occult: an interest which expanded far beyond what books could be found in a Texas small-town library. And so whenever she went into town, she hung around Barnes’ Ignoble Books, a weird little bookstore tucked away in a back street. Sal didn’t like it much because of the way Pamela, the Alpha proprietor, looked at him – as if he was a delicious pie or something – but Bela loved it, and Pamela helped her track down and order many obscure volumes.

Sal, for his part, was less particular in his choice of reading material – he devoured everything he could get his hands on, enjoying classics, history, fantasy, modern fiction, science fiction, science fact, and every other genre. As he went through school, he discovered – rather to his surprise – that academic work came very easily to him, almost effortlessly, and he started to dream beyond the bounds of ranch and small-town life. Perhaps, he thought, he could go to college and become a lawyer when he grew up. Perhaps he could even be a lawyer specializing in championing Omega rights, prosecuting the people who ran those dubious illegal clubs he heard discussed in whispers by his parents.

Consistently small for his age, bookish, intelligent, and an Omega to boot, he found himself the target of more than his fair share of bullies. But he had a father with a short temper and a shotgun, a mother with the same maternal instincts as an enraged mama bear, and three fiercely protective older sisters. And so, embarrassing as it could sometimes be to admit it, he was well looked after by his family, well cocooned from the worst the world had to offer.

The state of Texas has never been at the vanguard of progressive sex education, but the local high school did have one Omega teacher – a Mrs Flynn – and one day when Sal was in ninth grade, he received a note from her requesting that he come to her classroom at lunch break for an extra-curricular lesson in Omega biology.

He reached the classroom early and found a short line of students waiting in the corridor – all of them Omegas, all of them girls, and all of them taller than he was. Sal blushed as he joined the back of the line, slumping against the wall a bit and hoping it looked like he just happened to be standing there. He’d always been small, but over the past couple of years, as most of the rest of his grade had hit puberty and shot upwards, leaving him behind, he’d become much more self-conscious about his size. And of course, he’d just started to have an interest in girls, but they generally showed little interest in him. They preferred taller boys who looked they might have some pubes.

He risked a glance at the girl next to him in line. She looked familiar. Pretty, blonde, with budding breasts at his eye level. He jerked his eyes upwards to her face, and she smiled at him.

‘Hey,’ she said, ‘it’s Sal, isn’t it?’

Sal mumbled something, trying to remember her name.

‘I’m Jess,’ she said, ‘we have English together.’

Of course. Sal didn’t trust himself to say much, but he nodded.

‘Hey, Sally, whatcha doin’ with those hot chicks?’

The voice came from behind him. Sal closed his eyes and tried to remain calm. Brady. The dumbest Alpha jock on campus. Not worth his attention. Just ignore him.

‘You won’t be able to do anything with them, you know,’ Brady’s voice continued, ‘I bet you haven’t even got a dick at all, have you, you little fruit loop? Just an O-ring.’

‘Leave him alone,’ said Jess, and Sal opened his eyes again, giving her a grateful look.

‘Why? What do you care? He couldn’t satisfy you,’ said Brady, leering at her and leaning in close. She shrank away from him. ‘You O-girls need an Alpha male to fill you up and take you in hand.’ He glanced down the line and breathed in the scent of young female Omega. A smile spread over his face.

‘Oh, this is an O thing, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘You O girls and Sally here going in for biology lesson to learn how to take the knot once you get in heat. But you don’t need Mrs Flynn to tell you, I can teach you that for free.’ He leaned in still further, and Jess, backed up against the wall, couldn’t get away.

‘That’s enough,’ said Sal, stepping forward, ‘leave us alone.’

‘Ooh,’ said Brady, ‘little Sally getting stroppy is he? Must be those hormones.’

He turned away from Jess, and took a step towards Sal, towering over him.

‘For Christ’s sake, pick on someone your own size.’

The voice, full of disgust, came from over Brady’s shoulder, and he turned to see who it was. Sal already knew, and filled with a mixture of shame and relief. Ruby. His older sister stood behind Brady, her arms folded, an utterly unimpressed expression on her face.

‘You Alphas,’ she said, in a tone so disdainful that even Brady seemed abashed.

‘Hey, Rubes, I was just playing around,’ he said. Ruby just glared at him, and Sal and Jess both moved forwards slightly, showing they weren’t intimidated. If it came to an actual fight, Sal thought, even three-on-one Brady would probably still come out on top, but then he knew from personal experience that Ruby fought dirty, so he wouldn’t have bet on it.

The jock obviously made a similar mental calculation, decided it wasn’t worth his while to stay here any more, and walked off down the corridor, leaving them alone. Just to show he hadn’t been defeated, however, he walked with an exaggerated swagger – the kind of my-dick’s-so-big-I-can’t-put-my-thighs-too-close-together strut that some Alphas liked to adopt – and threw over his shoulder a final insult as he went.

‘You Os think you know shit,’ he said, ‘but sooner or later, you’ll all just sluts for the knot. You’ll see.’

‘Alpha guys. Knots bigger than their brains.’ This comment, uttered in an unfamiliar voice, quiet but venomous, came from behind Sal. He looked round and saw a small red-headed girl in a Star Wars T-shirt, who must have joined the back of the line while his attention was occupied elsewhere.

‘Celeste,’ she said.

‘I’m Sal.’

She nodded, and then looked over his shoulder and smiled. Sal was puzzled for a second, then realized she was smiling at Jess.

‘I’m Jess,’ she said, and giggled slightly.

‘You were brave, standing up to Brady like that,’ said Celeste.

‘Thanks,’ Sal and Jess said together.

Just then, Mrs Flynn opened the door of her classroom and poked her head out. ‘Right girls,’ she said, ‘and, um, Sal, please come in.’

They all shuffled into the classroom. As he went by, Ruby touched Sal on the arm. ‘Good luck,’ she said, and if she’d been trying to make him feel better, she failed, because she made him feel worse. He hadn’t been thinking of this class as something he’d need good luck for. It wasn’t a test. Was it?

With the slight delay, he ended up being the last one into the classroom, and took a seat as far back as he reasonably could, next to Celeste, who was chatting with Jess.

‘Right,’ said Mrs Flynn, closing the door and standing at the front of the room, ‘thank you for coming here. I hope you’ll find this session useful. There are an awful lot of misconceptions about Omega biology, so I wanted to call you in before you hit the worst of puberty and let you know what you can expect before you hit your first heat.’

Sal felt himself blushing a little. People didn’t usually talk about things like heats in public, in calm voices, but now this teacher with her greying hair and sensible shoes, her face soft and still pretty, was giving them a lesson.

There was a murmur around the class which Mrs Flynn ignored. She took up a piece of chalk and started drawing Greek symbols on the blackboard, explaining in the same tones as she used for talking about photosynthesis.

As she went through the genetics, Sal realized he’d learned most of it already, just from living on a ranch. Humans worked in much the same way as cattle, and horses, and dogs. Sure, some of the details varied, but the basic workings were the same. The Betas were by far the most numerous part of the population, and usually mated with each other, producing more Beta offspring. The Alphas were much rarer, and – Mrs Flynn explained – were believed to have evolved to be leaders of breakaway packs or tribes, striking out  whenever resources became scarce, to move to new locations – or to fight. They were typically aggressive and territorial and did not usually mate with each other, but with Betas – or with Omegas.

Omegas were the rarest type, and believed to have evolved after Alphas, to be their mates – extremely fertile and naturally submissive. When Mrs Flynn said this, another murmur went round the room, the girls not all happy with this description of their biological destiny. Sal remained silent, and felt a strange twinge deep in his belly at the words. Made to be an Alpha’s mate. He couldn’t imagine being the mate of someone like Brady, or like Pamela at the bookstore, or any of the other Alphas he’d met. And yet somehow, the idea of finding someone, a strong dominant Alpha who’d take care of him…

‘Of course,’ Mrs Flynn interrupted his chain of thought, ‘evolution is just a theory.’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling and recited, with obvious reluctance, ‘the state of Texas requires that I tell you that the Bible states that God created the different types of humanity, each to their own purpose. The Alphas to be the leaders of men, the Betas to be the flock, and the Omegas to be the wives and helpmeets of the Alphas, and the mothers of their sons.’

She looked round the classroom, as if daring anyone to argue that she hadn’t done her duty by the state of Texas in telling them what the Bible said. One of the girls – a blonde with a large cross round her neck - piped up.

‘If Omegas are supposed to wives and mothers, why are there male Omegas?’ The girl turned to stare rudely at Sal. He glared back.

‘An interesting question,’ said Mrs Flynn, with a sigh. ‘Male Omegas are the rarest type of all, and can only be born from a Omega mother and an Alpha father. The latest scientific theory is that male Omegas are a result of a cell mutation occurring in the womb, causing a male foetus to develop certain characteristics –’

‘But why would He make them?’ interrupted the girl, clearly not satisfied with a scientific explanation. ‘Male Os can’t give birth. What’s the point of them? Aren’t they against the rules of nature?’

‘That’s enough,’ said Mrs Flynn, showing a glint of steel underneath her kindly exterior. ‘It is not for us to question the doings of the Allmighty. Everyone is beautiful in their own way, because He makes no mistakes.’

This was enough to quell the girl, but she still stared at Sal, her eyes boring into him with unearned hatred, making him feel profoundly uncomfortable.

Mrs Flynn went on to talk about puberty, and body development.

‘Omegas usually reach puberty later than Betas or Alphas,’ she said, ‘and typically remain small and delicate, although some can grow tall. We can be prone to infections, especially of the scent glands in the neck –’ I remember that, thought Sal ‘- so it is important to look after your immune system. Eat a healthy diet with plenty of fresh fruit and salads – Omegas need more vitamins and less protein than Betas or Alphas.’

‘Now, heats,’ she said, and paused, looking round the room. Nobody giggled or talked. ‘You’ll have probably heard a lot about heats already, but it might not all be accurate. They’re nothing to be afraid of, especially now that more drugs are legally available to help manage your hormones.’

Sal flushed at the mention of heats, and felt like somebody had turned up the thermostat in the room. He hadn’t had one yet, didn’t expect to have one for a long time, but he found the idea of them, frankly, terrifying.

‘The age at which an Omega experiences his or her first heat can vary widely,’ Mrs Flynn was saying. ‘If you find a mate – an Alpha with whom you have a profound bond – then the heat can come on quickly, as young as fourteen or fifteen. If you don’t find a mate, it can be as late as twenty-five.’

Twenty-five, thought Sal. It seemed a lifetime away. And it would be so embarrassing, he thought, to not reach sexual maturity until such an advanced age – but then, the alternative, to go into heat and smell like an all-you-can-eat buffet to all the Alphas in range… he couldn’t decide what would be worse.

‘Does it have to be an Alpha?’ Jess asked.

Mrs Flynn smiled. ‘Many Omegas can happily marry Betas, or even other Omegas. But you won’t have quite the same bond as with an Alpha mate.’

She drew some more stuff on the blackboard, about complementary hormones and musk glands. She explained the symptoms of the heat and how they could be managed. She talked about sex and how it was different for Omegas. She even drew a diagram of the knot. She seemed perfectly calm, evidently used to discussing such things, but Sal got more and more embarrassed, and it seemed like the room got hotter and hotter until he thought he might actually faint. Which would be even more of a humiliation.

‘Hey Sal, you ok there?’ Celeste asked him in a whisper. ‘You’ve gone red as a beetroot.’

‘I, um,’ he mumbled.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, and leaned in conspiratorially. ‘You can read about all this stuff in books, you know, do some homework later. They don’t have anything in the library here, but my mom told me about this place in town – Barnes’ Ignoble Books. You know it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sal, ‘my sister likes it. But the owner – she’s a bit-’

‘She stares at you likes she wants to eat you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well,’ said Celeste, with a glance at Mrs Flynn, who had her back to them, drawing a diagram of how the muscles in the Omega vagina clamped down on the knot during orgasm to lock the bodies together – ‘she is a bit weird, but she’s nice really. And she’s got all these books in the back – not just biology and stuff, but there’s this series called The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia. It’s about these Omega twins, and they… well, they get around. The books are really hot. You should totally check them out.’

She grinned at him, and Sal couldn’t quite decide if she was making fun of him and his discomfort, or actually trying to give him an honest recommendation. But if she was trying to make him more embarrassed, she failed, since it was physically impossible for him to get any more embarrassed than he already was. Sometimes, he thought, being an Omega kinda sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts, I'm always very happy to get comments.


	6. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and John have a hunt in the Great North Woods, and a lead on something else.  
> Sal is hunting after some new reading material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some (human-on-monster) violence.  
> No sexual content except for Pamela leering at Sam.

On the Hunt

 

‘I think I’ve found something,’ said John, as he put the last component of his cleaned and disassembled rifle on the table between them. It was a six weeks after Dean’s seventeenth birthday. They were holed up in a log cabin, somewhere in the Great North Woods, chasing after a monstrous bear creature which had ripped some hikers to shreds. The cabin didn’t have running water or electricity, but it did have their entire arsenal of weaponry, including rifles, hunting bows, and blades of every description.

‘Hmm-mmm,’ said Dean, carefully taking apart his own rifle, as his father had taught him. ‘You think it’s a wendigo?’

John shrugged. ‘Could be. Although it seems to have eaten only the brains of the victims, not the flesh like you’d expect from a wendigo. But I think I’ve found something bigger than this hunt. Much bigger.’

Dean looked up. ‘Really? How big?’

‘Thing that killed your mother big.’

Dean felt his blood turn cold and throb painfully in his veins. Revenge might be dish best served cold, but sometimes Dean wondered what would happen to him and father once they had fulfilled the mission which had kept them going all these years. It had been so long – would they be able to find anything else to give them purpose?

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Got a call from my friend Pastor Jim in Minnesota. Says he’s been doing research into the infernal order, and he’s found out some information about demonic signs and portents.’

‘Uh-huh,’ said Dean, not feeling convinced so far.

‘Says there’s a demon called Azazel. Very powerful, high up in the hierarchy of Hell. Leaves a trail of strange cattle deaths, electrical storms, and temperature fluctuations wherever he goes. It’s a pattern.’

‘Yeah…’

‘And, he kills with fire. And you know, the week before your mother died, all round Lawrence, there were cattle dying.’

‘I don’t remember that.’

‘You wouldn’t. We kept it from you, thought you were too young to cope.’

Dean almost laughed at the idea of John ever thinking he’d been too young to be told about death. He managed to turn it into a cough, and continued disassembling the rifle.

‘And the weather was weird that week too. Storms one day, sunshine the next. I’d almost forgotten that, until Jim mentioned it as a sign.’

‘So you think it was this Azazel?’

John didn’t answer him. He turned his head to one side and listened, as if he’d heard something.

And Dean heard it too. A shuffling, rustling, snuffling sound, like a large mammal moving through forest. Exactly the kind of noise a monster bear would make, if it was coming to their isolated cabin.

John was on his feet in less than a second, making for the bow which hung on the wall behind him. Before he could reach it, not the door, but the entire front wall of the cabin gave way with a huge creaking sound, the logs turned to splinters. And a head came through. A head at least two feet long, with a mouth full of sabre teeth.

Dean froze, staring at the creature, his brain registering the details of it without conscious effort after years of training at monster recognition. Definitely not a wendigo, nor a bear. It looked more like some kind of hyena. It had big, twitching ears and its huge muscular neck was covered in shaggy striped fur. It snuffled its nose, moving about, and he noticed its eyes were clouded: it was blind, reliant on sound and smell to find its prey.

It took him less than a second to take all this in, and to decide the best thing to do was keep quiet and still and hope the creature would be confused by the strong smell everywhere in the cabin – which was pretty rank after several days without any washing facilities – buying him time to figure out its weak spot. No sooner had he had the thought than John grabbed the bow and started loading a bolt. At the noise, the creature forced the rest of its body into the cabin and jumped towards him with shocking speed, snapping its jaw.

‘Hey!’ Dean yelled, just before it could rip his father in two. It stopped and turned around, and went for him instead. Frantically, he started putting his rifle back together.

It leapt at him, mouth agape, all ready to bite his head off and eat his sweet juicy brain. At the last nanosecond, he got the rifle up and pulled the trigger, blasting it right down the thing’s throat at point-blank range.

The creature thudded to the floor and thrashed around, smashing all the furniture in the cabin to matchwood. A crossbow bolt in the neck finished it off.

Dean wiped his face, his hand shaking, and looked over at John.

‘Strange thing,’ said John. ‘Think it must be a Kerit.’

‘A what?’

‘Kerit. Kind of bear-hyena-monster. Didn’t think they got them outside of Africa. Must be some kind of prehistoric throwback. Anyway, we’re done here. You get digging a grave for it, I’ll pack up.’

Not ‘well done son.’ Not ‘thanks for saving my ass there.’ Not ‘sharp thinking’ or ‘good hands with the rifle’. Well, it wasn’t like he’d signed up for this life for the compliments. He hadn’t signed up for this life at all. He’d signed up to protect Sammy, but he’d long since come to a dead end in his attempts to track his lost little brother.

Dean put the rifle down, got up, grabbed the shovel, and walked out through the destroyed front wall of the cabin into the chilly March air.

 

***

 

The very next Saturday after the slightly disturbing extra-curricular lesson, Bela announced she wanted to go into town and pay a visit to Barnes’ Ignoble Books.

‘You wanna come with, Sal?’ she asked him over breakfast.

‘Sure,’ he said with a shrug, looking down at his oatmeal-with-blueberries (he’d remembered what Mrs Flynn had said about eating plenty of fresh fruit) and hoping she couldn’t see him blush. Why would he be blushing? He’d been to Barnes’ Ignoble Books loads of times before, there was no reason why this time should be any different.

Bela had just got her driving licence, and she managed to sweet-talk their father into letting her borrow the most presentable of the several rusting old sedans he had sitting out back, waiting to be restored to their former glory and re-sold. They’d been waiting for quite some time, but they still looked better than the ancient, mud-splattered trucks Bobby and Ellen used for both farm-work and town driving.

Bela drove them in, but she didn’t park near Barnes’ Ignoble Books. Instead she parked on the square and made straight for the nearby coffee shop - which had opened up only a couple of months before.

‘Thought you wanted to go to the bookstore?’ Sal asked.

‘Yeah, but I’m desperate for a cappuccino,’ she said. Cappuccinos were new to this part of Texas and Bela thought she was very sophisticated for drinking them. ‘Plus the barista’s cute.’ She also thought she was very sophisticated for using the word ‘barista’. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee.’

It was tempting – Ellen didn’t usually let him drink coffee at home because she’d heard it could be bad for young Omegas. But it was also tempting to go straight to the bookstore, and have some precious time by himself to find those books Celeste had told him about.

‘No, I’ll go on ahead and leave you to flirt with Cappuccino Boy. You don’t need me in tow.’

‘Suit yourself. Why you so anxious to get to the bookstore anyway?’

‘I’m not anxious.’

‘Sure you are.’

‘Am not.’

Bela gave him a Look. She’d been perfecting her Looks recently. This one was the ‘I don’t believe you but I’ll let it slide because I have much more important things in my life right now than thinking about you.’

Sal mumbled something and walked off, as quickly as he dared.

It was the first time he’d been inside Barnes’ Ignoble Books on his own, and he didn’t like the predatory way Pamela smiled at him when he walked in.

‘Well, hello Sal,’ she said, ‘no big sis today?’

‘She’ll be here soon,’ he said quickly. ‘She’ll want that book on occult rituals she reserved.’

‘That’s no problem, I’ve got it right here waiting for her. But what can I do for you?’

 ‘I’m looking for some books – someone at school said – need for a project – they’re called something about Orion and Ophelia.’ He said this last bit so quietly he could barely hear it himself, and yet Pamela seemed to know just what he meant. Her smile got even wider and toothier.

‘The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia,’ she said. ‘By Gaby Winger. An excellent series. One of my personal favorites. Not the best written, of course, but very… juicy.’

Sal swallowed. ‘So, er, do you have them?’

‘Sure I do. You’ll find them at the back, filed under – ahem - “Romance”.’ She made the little quote marks with her fingers while she spoke.

‘Thank you.’

It didn’t take him long to find to find the Romance section at the back of the store, and the “Romance” section was right next door. And the Orion and Ophelia novels – well, he’d had no idea there were so many. All in pastel colors, all with the same symbol on the spine - two capital ‘Omega’s intertwined. Fortunately, it was easy to work out where to start, since they were clearly numbered. They all had alliterative titles, and a moment later Sal realized the titles were alphabetical – but corresponding to the Greek alphabet, not the Latin.

He picked up Book 1 – ‘The Aurora Accident’ and started flicking through. Almost at once, two things became very clear. Firstly: he had to have this book. Secondly, he didn’t want anyone to know he had this book. He put it back on the shelf and picked up the second one, ‘A Better Blade’. It seemed even juicier. He didn’t even dare glance at the third beyond the title, ‘The Great Glow’.

‘Found everything you need, hun?’

Pamela was nearby, leaning against a shelf, looking at him with a half-smile on her face. Sal knew he was flushed and trembling slightly, but he couldn’t help it.

‘Yes, thank you,’ he said, and his voice came out squeaky.

‘I think I know your problem,’ she drawled, and came closer. ‘You want these books, don’t you?’

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

‘But you’re not sure Mummy and Daddy would approve of your reading material?’

Sal nodded again. His mouth had dried up.

Pamela looked him up and down, then breathed in slowly. Her smile was no longer half.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, ‘since you’re such a good customer, if you buy the first three in the series, I’ll give you the fourth one for free. And I’ll throw in some of the spare covers I’ve got from old text books, so they’ll look like they’re just your school books if anyone comes snooping. Deal?’

Sal could just about see over her shoulder to the store’s front window, and at that moment he saw Bela coming along the street outside, a takeout coffee cup in her hand. She didn’t look in any kind of hurry – but still, he didn’t have much time.

‘Deal,’ he said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know your thoughts in the comments!  
> I'm on tumblr http://persephone-garnata.tumblr.com/


	7. Poker Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the trail of Azazel, John and Dean end up playing in a high-stakes poker game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No violence or explicit sexual content this time, but some references to prostitution.  
> Song lyrics are from 'Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap' by AC/DC.  
> This chapter is Dean's POV only but the next Sal/Sam chapter is nearly ready to go so I promise I will post it soon!

Poker Face

 

‘So where are we headed now?’ Dean asked his father, as they walked away from the wrecked cabin, shoving their arsenal in the bed of John’s truck. For this hunt, the Impala had been left parked up at Elkins' ranch. John had given Dean the Impala for his 18th birthday - it was the best thing he’d ever done for him.

Dean had buried the Kerit, a short distance into the woods, but they’d made no attempt to clean up the mess it had made. The whole front wall of the cabin had been stoved in, and most of the furniture smashed up. Dean supposed they’d just be leaving it for the owner to sort out when he came back. He’d probably try to charge them for the damage, using the credit card details John had left him as security. Good luck with that. Dean had occasionally asked his father about the trail of casual destruction and petty crime they left in their wake, but was always told that the good they did, the lives they saved, far outweighed any property damage they caused, or hurt feelings about grave desecration.

‘Ohio,’ came the answer to his question.

‘What’s in Ohio?’ Dean asked.

‘Signs,’ said John.

‘Signs of what?’

‘Of Azazel. Weren’t you listening when I was telling you about this stuff?’

‘I got kind of distracted by the monster crashing into the cabin.’

John stared at him for a long uncomfortable moment, his eyes flat and cold. He did not appreciate smartass remarks. Then he threw the last bag – full of ammunition – into the truck, and climbed into the cab, without making any further comment. Dean pushed down any inconvenient emotions and went round to the passenger side.

They set off, bumping along the dirt track. John put on the radio and fiddled with it until he picked up a classic rock station, the signal faint and crackly. He pumped up the volume as much as he could, and they both sang along to AC/DC, loud and out of tune.

 

‘Dirty deeds, and they’re done dirt cheap.

Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT

Done dirt cheap!

Neck ties, contracts, high voltage

Done dirt cheap!

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap!

Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap!’

 

They grinned at each other, and John pulled the car off the dirt track and onto the proper road, speeding through the forest. This was the life Dean understood – the endless asphalt, the loud guitars, the truck bed full of weapons, his father at his side, criss-crossing America on the trail of a demon. There was another life somewhere, he knew – the life he should have lived. The life of a ranch in Kansas, riding horses every day under an open sky, with his brother. He caught glimpses of that life sometimes, usually from the saddle, but he didn’t know how to find his way back to it. And for now, this was his life, and he lived it as best he could.

They drove for three and a half hours before stopping at some truck stop in the middle of nowhere to fill their bellies and the gas tank, and empty their bladders. Then they kept driving for a few more hours, and Dean dozed off. When he awoke, John was pulling up outside a motel on the edge of a small town, next to a neon-lit bar. Both establishments looked seedy, even by their low standards.

‘This’ll do,’ said John.

‘Where are we?’

‘Nowheresville, Ohio. Epicentre of the latest batch of freak storms and cattle deaths.’

They climbed out of the cab and stretched their stiff limbs. Within moments a male Omega approached them. Dean could smell that distinctive Omega scent immediately, albeit with the sweetness overlaid by the sour tang of sweat and semen. He was small, and looked fragile, his clothes too skimpy, his skin stretched too tight.

‘Hey boys,’ he said. ‘Looking for a good time?’

‘Not with you,’ said John, although his voice wasn’t unkind.

‘How about you, honey?’ he said to Dean.

‘No thank you,’ Dean mumbled, and followed his father towards the motel.

After they had gotten settled into a motel room with stains on the walls and on the sheets, John led him back outside and over towards the bar. The Omega was still there in the parking lot, still touting for business.

‘Now that’s the lowest rung of the Omega ladder,’ John muttered to Dean. ‘The rejects from the sex shows – that’s how they end up.’ He shuddered, involuntarily, and Dean tried very hard not to imagine that his little brother would ever finish up like that.

The bar was even rougher inside than it looked from the outside, full of bad tattoos, scuffed leather jackets and the kind of beards you’d need to audition for ZZ Top, and only about two women in the whole place – both with bleached hair and dead eyes. It fell quiet when John and Dean walked in, and everyone turned to stare at them.

John didn’t care. He walked right up to the bar with an Alpha swagger, projecting the kind of confidence which comes easily when you know you’ve got three guns and four knives and balls of steel. Dean tried to project the same as he followed, at a bit of a distance so that people wouldn’t necessarily think they were together. Letting people think you didn’t have backup, when you actually did – that could come in handy.

The bartender – as rough as his customers – raised his eyebrows at them.

‘You here for the poker game?’ he asked.

John didn’t miss a beat. ‘Sure,’ he said.

The bartender snorted. ‘Buy-in’s five hundred dollars.’

Now John was always a believer in having ready cash, just in case, but they wouldn’t normally have anything like that much to hand. This time, however, it was different – they had the money. It was supposed to have paid the rental on the cabin – if they hadn’t trashed it and skipped town without settling their bill, of course. Blowing a thousand bucks on a poker game would leave them with nothing, but…

‘No problem,’ said John, and met the bartender’s gaze without blinking. The other guy looked away first.

‘Back room,’ he said, gesturing with a thumb.

‘Can I get a whiskey first?’

The bartender reached for the shelf behind him. Once he’d served John, he turned to Dean.

‘Poker?’

Dean nodded. ‘And I’ll have a beer,’ he said. He had an array of fake ID’s now, but this hardly seemed like the sort of place which would card him.

It wasn’t. Taking a gulp of beer – straight from the bottle, since the glasses looked like they hadn’t been cleaned since about 1975 – he followed his father through to the back room, and the probably-not-terribly-legal poker game. A hard-faced man at the door took their money and gave them chips in exchange.

He knew the routine. They would pretend they didn’t know each other – this worked at least some of the time – and John would play the hardbitten pro. Dean would play the hapless kid, in over his head, and would lose badly with over-confident betting in the early rounds (making sure he lost to John where possible, of course). Then, just before he had to withdraw, John would lend him some money – ‘I feel sorry for you, kid,’ – and he’d keep on playing, more cautiously, until ‘beginner’s luck’ saw him win big. And they’d both retire gracefully, pockets stuffed, before anyone twigged they were hustling, and working together.

This routine had sometimes earned them a lot of money in the past – sometimes enough from a single night to keep them in gas and hamburgers and seedy motel rooms for weeks on end. And sometimes it earned them nothing but a beatdown. Dean sincerely hoped this would be a money night, not a beatdown night, but he did not have a good feeling.

The other players were already sitting round the table, and barely looked up when Dean and John came in and settled themselves into the two vacant chairs. There were five of them: four of them Betas, all balding, overweight, and sweaty, faces disappearing into their necks. The fifth guy – he was the one to watch. He was rangy, with a sense of compressed energy about him. He had short graying hair and a craggily handsome face, with a cleft chin and eyes that missed nothing. Dean sat down directly opposite him, and resolved to be careful. He caught a whiff of Alpha pheromones coming from him, the implicit, unspoken challenge as the two new Alphas came to the table.

If he hadn’t had a bad feeling before, he did now.

The other players made a few grunts to acknowledge the newcomers. The man to Dean’s left looked him up and down and licked his lips, probably without even realizing he was doing it.

‘We’re playing Omaha,’ he said, and Dean nodded. He took another swig of beer and watched the current hand play out.

The men played mostly in silence, eyes on the cards, not on each other. Dean had the sense that the Alpha opposite was watching him – whilst apparently paying him no attention at all. The guy on his left, meanwhile, kept sneaking glances at him and licking the corner of his mouth. Dean lifted his beer bottle to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the neck, deliberately provocative. He saw the guy shift in his seat and almost laughed. That one would be easy to distract.

The Alpha scooped the pot for that hand, and then dealt out the next.

‘You’re big blind,’ he said to John. ‘And you’re little blind,’ he said to Dean.

The other men round the table suppressed a snigger, but both John and Dean maintained their poker faces. Getting riled by small slights was a sure-fire way to lose. There were so many ways to lose at poker, and Dean knew all of them. The trick was to make sure they happened to somebody else.

He looked at his hole cards – two fives, a ten, and the Jack of Hearts. They felt tacky beneath his fingertips. The Alpha guy flipped over the community cards. Two Queens, a four, a seven, and the Ace of Clubs. Time to bluff, thought Dean. He was already the little blind, after all, so he may as well.

He bet quickly, and he bet big, and he made sure to worry his lower lip with his teeth just the tiniest bit. The guy next to him was practically squirming in his seat.

It all turned out like he’d hoped it would: three of the guys dropped out of the betting early on, leaving him and John and the Alpha guy and one other. He bet bigger and lost that hand to a two pair. Now he was humiliated, with his tell noticed and noted, playing like an amateur and a soft touch. Perfect.

He kept at it, playing recklessly, swigging his beer, fidgeting, worrying his lower lip whenever he was bluffing. John meanwhile played more cautiously, not drawing attention to himself. Before too long, Dean was bust – and, when he appealed for the mercy of a loan to buy back in, he found a not entirely unexpected savior in the form of the guy next to him. He’d probably expect payback later from those sweet young lips, but Dean already knew how to deal with that kind of situation, and he wasn’t going to worry about that right now.

He kept playing, more sensibly now, just reckless enough to keep up the façade. He won a couple of lucky hands, and he didn’t bluff quite so much. Whenever he did bluff, he bit his lower lip – not much, but enough to be noticed, and give away his tell. John won a few hands, still playing steadily, but overall, he was losing more than he won. The other guys started to go bust, dropping out one by one – Dean’s savior going first, apparently unable to concentrate fully on his cards for some reason.

And then, finally, there were only three of them left in the game, the three Alphas in the room. John, without many chips left, went all in on a hand with two aces on the table. Dean, with more chips but crappy cards, folded and watched. At the end of the hand, his father flipped over three tens to make a full house – and must have thought he was back in the game. But then the other Alpha reached to the cards face down in front of him and turned over the other two aces. Four of a kind. John had lost everything, and now it was all down to Dean – he needed to win, to get back their thousand bucks and then some, to pay for the skeevy motel and the loan from the fat guy and the beer he’d drunk and the gas they’d need to get out of town.

Dean tried his best to keep his poker face as John left the table, to seem indifferent, as if John was nothing to him, but he couldn’t help feeling like the other man could look right through his skin and see what lay beneath.

Only two of them now, and the other guy had most of the chips. Dean resisted the temptation to wipe the sweat from his brow. He dealt, and the betting began. In the hole, he had garbage – all low cards, not even a pair. An eight, a seven, a five, a three, and a two. Once the community cards were revealed, things got a little better. On the table were the King, Queen and ten of clubs, the seven of hearts, and the two of spades. Now, he could make a two pair with a King on the side. Not great – but it would have to do.

Time, he thought, to bluff for real. With casual confidence, leaving his lip alone, he leaned forward, and raised the bet. The other Alpha took his time to respond, then matched him, and raised him again.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He raised again, keeping his cool. No tell. If the other guy had been paying attention – and he certainly had been – he’d know he wasn’t bluffing. Except he was. This was a trick Dean had played many times before - he even had a name for it. The Show ‘n’ Tell. Establish your tics early on, and then go poker face at the crucial point. So many card players thought they were clever, thought they knew what they were doing, when they didn’t. Dean didn’t play the game, he played the players.

The Alpha didn’t seem phased. He raised again, and now Dean was low on chips. But he must have this guy fooled, and tiredness threatened the corners of his eyes. His throat was dry, his palms sweaty. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. He needed to end this, and end it soon.

He went all in.

The guy didn’t even blink. He matched the bet, and then it was time for the reveal. No escape now.

Dean showed his two and his seven, and met the other man’s gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he flipped over two of his cards – a Jack and a nine. A straight, King high. Poker might be a game of psychology, of bluff and counter-bluff, of watching the players and counting the odds – but once the chips were down, the only thing that mattered was who had the better cards, and any poker rookie knew that a straight beat a two pair.

There was a moment of silence as Dean contemplated what had just happened. A thousand bucks, all the money he and his father had, gone. Everything he’d done at the table, all the elaborate deception, all for nothing.

The silence was broken by the guy who’d been staring at him earlier, and who was now watching from the corner. ‘You owe me, boy,’ he said. ‘For that buy-back. Five hundred dollars.’

‘Don’t worry if you don’t got the money,’ said one of the other former players, ‘he’ll accept payment in kind.’

Everyone burst out laughing at that, except Dean, and John. Dean glanced at the man sitting on the other side of the table, the Alpha who had beaten him, laughing with the rest at his utter humiliation. For just a moment, he thought he saw something in his eyes, something that should not have been there – a flash of yellow.

‘I hope you remember this, Dean,’ he said, and Dean realized with a cold shock he’d never told him his name. ‘Remember what happens when you try to fuck with me.’

Dean stood up, trembling, instinctively reaching for his gun. Before he could do anything, John marched over to him and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

‘Come on,’ he said, and pulled him away from the table. To the man who’d spoken before, he said ‘We’ll get you your money, you have my word on that.’ To Dean, he said ‘Now, you’re going to earn back what you’ve lost.’

He dragged him away from the table, and out of the bar, Dean too shocked to protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please share your thoughts!  
> Come say hi on tumblr too: http://persephone-garnata.tumblr.com/


	8. The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal checks out the books recommended to him by Celeste, and discovers they're far juicier than he'd ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you a quick update and here it is!  
> This chapter is pretty meta, since it's mostly Sal reading the books and his reaction to them.  
> The fictional stories he reads feature sex (including dubcon), violence, and major character death, although nothing is described in detail.

The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia

               

As soon as Sal got back to his room after that trip to the book store, he pulled the Orion and Ophelia books out of his backpack with trembling hands. He wrapped one of the old textbook covers Pamela had given him around The Aurora Accident, just in case one of his family came in and saw him reading it – the Singers, while they usually tried to respect each other’s privacy, occasionally got over-enthusiastic and barged in without knocking. Then he opened it up, and began to read.

The next thing he knew, he was being called down to dinner, and realized he hadn’t moved at all in the last few hours except to turn the pages, so enthralled had he become with the story of the two young Omegas. He’d devoured over half of it already. Reluctantly, he put the book aside and went downstairs, where he was uncharacteristically silent over dinner, concentrating on shoving in his food as fast as possible so he could get back to reading.

‘Is everything okay, honey?’ Ellen asked him. He swallowed his mouthful of beef and broccoli. ‘Fine, I’ve just gotten stuck some reading I have to do for school.’

His mom nodded. Being stuck in a book was not unusual for Sal. ‘What subject?’ she asked.

‘Biology.’ It was only sort-of a lie. Biology of one kind or another featured prominently in the novel, after all.

‘Extra reading from Mrs Flynn?’ Ruby asked, and at the same time Bela asked ‘Got something from Barnes’ Ignoble Books?’ For a moment Sal hesitated, unsure which lie would be convincing or which question he should answer first. Fortunately his mother came unwittingly to his rescue.

‘Mrs Flynn teaching you Omega stuff?’ she asked.

‘Mmm-hmm,’ he said, putting another piece of broccoli in his mouth and chewing it slowly, hoping that would help give him more time before he had to answer further questions.

‘She doing a good job? Anything you’re unsure about?’

Sal nodded at the first question and shook his head at the second, and then Jo asked her mom about the new horse they’d be getting soon, and the conversation moved on to less dangerous waters. Sal breathed a silent sigh of relief, asked to be excused as soon as he finished his dinner – he wasn’t interested in dessert – and returned to his room, and The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia.

The books were a revelation. Up to now, he’d never suspected anything like this had existed, but now – he needed it, and so much more.

The first book, The Aurora Accident, told the story of a pair of Omega twins who grew up in a wealthy and happy family in New York City, indulged by their parents and protected from the world. Then their doting parents were killed in a freak accident aboard a cruise liner – the Aurora of the title – and they were taken to an Omega orphanage. They soon discovered to their horror that the orphanage was actually being operated for profit by its corrupt owner as a front for the worst kind of brothel, with the Omegas being forced to perform in sordid sex shows in front of wealthy Alpha audiences. Orion and Ophelia spied on a show - described in full lurid detail - so both they and the reader knew just how bad it could get. Despite – or perhaps because of – the levels of humiliation involved, this scene made Sal short of breath and tingly all over, his dick standing to attention and refusing to stand down again until attention was paid.

Jesus, he thought, no wonder Pamela had looked at him like that when he’d asked for these books. They were pure filth. He took a quick bathroom break to relieve the pressure in his pants, and then read some more.

Orion and Ophelia were still at this stage too young to participate in these shows themselves, but they knew it would only be a matter of time. Then the orphanage owner caught them spying, tied them up, and beat them. Even this scene, painful and brutal though it was, made Sal’s pulse race. Finally, the two twins took the only comfort they could – in each other’s arms. And although their kisses and caresses were largely innocent, he still felt an illicit thrill at the promise of an incestuous liaison.

The first book ended with the twins escaping from the orphanage with the help of a kindly Beta groundskeeper, who turned out to be an undercover cop investigating the illegal sex shows. With their help, he was able to expose the orphanage and see the owner put behind bars.

No sooner did he finish reading the first volume, than Sal started reading the second, A Better Blade. This chronicled Orion and Ophelia’s attempts to help their cop protector expose more illegal Omega exploitation, by going undercover as innocent, vulnerable orphans (not much acting needed) who could potentially be drawn into the shows. There were plenty more lurid descriptions of the sex shows – necessitating more trips to the bathroom for Sal. Then the Omega twins met a pair of beautiful Alpha twins - Apollo and Artemis - who’d been forced to attend a sex show by their father, and both of them promptly fell in love with both of them. Sadly, their father dragged the Alpha twins off for a private show before Orion and Ophelia could even tell their names. But the Alpha twins snuck back later, without their father, and promised to stay in touch.

Then, when the work the Omega twins were doing to expose the shows came to fruition, it meant that Apollo and Artemis’ father got pulled into the public disgrace and ended up in prison, so the Alpha twins were cast onto their own devices as well.

By the time Sal started reading Book 3, The Great Glow, it was past midnight, everyone else in the house was asleep, and he’d had so many trips to the bathroom it had gotten embarrassing. And yet his dick still got very interested when he read about what Orion and Ophelia did with Apollo and Artemis.

The Alpha twins had joined the Omega twins and their fatherly cop in exposing the illegal sex shows and brothels, posing as wealthy clients. The book described them proceeding in this way for several years, until Orion and Ophelia were old enough to start getting their first heats, brought on, of course, by the near-constant presence of the gorgeous Alphas.

If Sal had thought he’d been turned on before – oh dear. This was something else. The description of the twins’ heat – and their attempts to relieve the fever – made him feel like his own temperature had been ramped up to more than a hundred degrees. Then the Alpha twins twigged what was going on, and decided to help out the Omegas in the obvious way – a double-twincest foursome.

Sal thought he might actually die. He couldn’t believe he was actually reading this stuff, only yards away from where his sisters and parents were sleeping. Really, he felt, Celeste should have given him a bit more warning – what if he’d tried to read this stuff in front of his family?

It was now well into the early hours of the morning, and Sal had been telling himself he really would go to sleep after he’d finished reading The Great Glow.

Then, in the final chapter, the orphanage owner from Book 1 escaped from prison – with the help of the Alpha twins’ father - murdered the kindly cop, and kidnapped the Omega twins.

Well, Sal couldn’t possibly go to bed on a cliffhanger like that, so he cracked open Book 4, A Darker Day. This detailed the twin’s imprisonment by the orphanage owner, kept collared and leashed like animals, chips embedded in them so he could track them down when they tried to escape. It was all very dark and disturbing, and yet somehow thrilling as well. Sal clutched his hands around his own throat, imagining what it would feel like to be collared by an Alpha.

By the time the sun rose over Texas, Apollo and Artemis had rescued Orion and Ophelia from the clutches of the evil orphanage owner, and Sal had finished all four books. He knew he had to get his hands on the rest of them - but he’d have to wait until he could make it to the bookstore, which would be next weekend at the earliest. He didn’t know how he’d cope in the meantime. Taking some deep shuddery breaths, he shoved the books – in their fake covers – to the back of his bookshelf, and laid down on his bed. His eyes felt like they’d be rolled around in sand.

At school that week – not helped by his lack of sleep at the weekend – he went around in a daze most of the time. Orion and Ophelia (and Apollo and Artemis) kept creeping into his thoughts unbidden, and the resulting boners were seriously awkward to try and conceal. His parents and sisters and teachers and school friends kept asking him if he was okay, and he had to keep shrugging and smiling and saying ‘Yeah I’m fine, just a little tired.’

Then came the next extra-curricular biology lesson with Mrs Flynn. Sal felt a little nervous as he walked down the corridor to her classroom, but there was thankfully no sign of Brady, nor of Ruby.

He joined the back of the line. Next to him stood Jess and Celeste, their heads leaning close together as they whispered secrets and giggled, blonde hair mixing with red. Their voices were so quiet Sal couldn’t hear them even though he stood right next to them, and they were so preoccupied with each other they didn’t notice him.

Then Celeste finally glanced up.

‘Hey Sal,’ she said with a smile, ‘how are you?’ She lowered her voice and said, ‘Did you check out those books? I’ve just been telling Jess about them.’

Jess nodded and giggled, her face flushed red. She was so pretty, Sal thought. She looked rather like how he’d pictured Ophelia.

He didn’t trust himself to speak out loud, so he made a murmur of assent.

‘You like them?’ Celeste had a wicked glint in her eye. She already knew the answer to her own question, but she wanted to watch him squirm. Sal felt his face go as red as Jess’s and made an even fainter murmur than before.

‘Great,’ said Celeste. ‘I love initiating new people into the Double-O Club. We can all be deviants together.’

‘Double-O Club?’ Sal asked, his voice mangled.

‘That’s what the fans of the series call ourselves,’ Celeste told him. ‘It’s the name of the biggest fan forum on the web.’

Sal’s mind boggled. ‘There’s a web forum?’ he asked. ‘For these books?’

He had never really used the internet much – they didn’t have it at the ranch, and the school library computers were slow and carefully monitored.

Celeste rolled her eyes.

‘Duh,’ she said. ‘Of course. I’m on there just about every night, talking to other fans’

‘What sort of thing do you talk about?’

‘All kinds of stuff. There’s loads of fan fiction as well.’

‘Fan fiction?’

Another eye roll. ‘Well of course. I mean, the characters and the story are great, but they aren’t the best written books ever. Half the fan fiction is better than the original.’

Sal stood with his mouth open, unable to process what she was saying. There was _more of this stuff? And some of it was better than the original?_

‘Come on,’ he heard Mrs Flynn’s voice saying, and realized he’d been standing in the corridor, gawping at the two grinning girls. He followed them into the classroom for another lesson. This one was mostly about heat cycles and fertility, and didn’t have that much relevance for him as a male, so he spent most of it staring out of the window and dreaming about Orion and Ophelia, the result of his fantasies conveniently hidden by the desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please share your thoughts below, and/or come say hi on tumblr: http://persephone-garnata.tumblr.com/


	9. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his failure at the poker table, Dean needs to pay his dues. He and John realize who they're facing. Meanwhile, Sal's choice of reading material produces some interesting dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not particularly explicit, but contains references to prostitution.

Sweet Dreams

 

                ‘But, Dad,’ Dean protested once John had dragged him outside the bar and was manhandling him towards their motel, ‘that guy, his eyes…’

                ‘His eyes what?’ John stopped and stared at him, his jaw clenched, his voice hard as flint. It was a long time since Dean had seen him quite this angry. Dean took a swallow on his dry throat and said ‘His eyes flashed at me. Kind of… yellow.’

A flicker of shock crossed John’s face. ‘Yellow? Are you sure?’

Dean swallowed again, but gave his answer. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

John swore, and turned on his heel. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ he asked, as Dean came after him.

Because you yelled at me and yanked me out by the scruff of my neck before I could, Dean thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he said, ‘He knew my name, too. How would he know my name?’

John paused, and turned round to look at his son over his shoulder, then swore again. ‘It’s him,’ he said. ‘It must be him. Dammit, Dean, why didn’t you warn me?’

Then, before Dean could even start to answer that question, John took off again, and Dean could only follow in his wake.

‘It’s who, Dad?’ he asked, but received no answer. John strode back into the bar, and went straight through to the room they had played poker in. The other players were still there – all except one. The man who’d beaten Dean, the man whose eyes had shone yellow, was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where is he?’ John demanded. One  of the players – the one who’d lent Dean money - looked up at him.

‘Cashed in and left, straight after you did,’ he said. ‘Now, about that cash I’m owed…’

‘We’ll get it for you,’ said John, ‘we’re at the motel next door, we ain’t gonna skip town.’ He briefly stared the man down, then turned to leave again. As he walked across the main room to the bar, Dean heard him mutter, seemingly half to himself.

‘The lore says Azazel’s eyes are yellow,’ he said. ‘And if he knew your name… he knows we’re after him. Shit. We’d better skip town – as soon as you’ve earned that money.’

And how am I going to do that? Dean wondered. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

John leaned over the bar and addressed the tender in an undertone which Dean could barely make out.

‘Poker didn’t go too well,’ he said, ‘now I’m in the mood for some other entertainment, and I got a feeling you can help me find what I’m looking for. I’m in the mood for something a bit _sweeter_ , if you catch my drift…’

‘There’s a strip club down the road,’ said the bartender. ‘That what you want?’

‘Almost,’ said John, with a smile. ‘But not quite. I wouldn’t expect a Beta guy like yourself to understand, but us Alphas… we got certain _needs_ … and sometimes a regular strip club just won’t cut it.’

Dean’s heart sank.

‘Like that is it?’ the tender asked. John nodded.

The bartender slid a card across the bar to him, underneath his hand, so subtly only someone like Dean would notice it. ‘For that sort of thing, you’ll need to drive to Columbus. Try this place, in the old meat-packing plant,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t send you there, got it?’

‘Got it,’ said John. He exchanged a five-dollar bill for the card. Dean trailed after him in silence as he went out to the truck. From the corner of his eye, Dean could see the Omega they’d encountered earlier, pushed up against the side wall of the motel by some big Alpha guy. He hoped the Omega was earning good money.

It was already late, and Columbus was at least an hour’s drive away. John pulled out of the parking lot, and switched on the radio. Loud guitar music blared from the speakers: AC/DC again.

  
‘You workin' in bars ridin' in cars  
Never gonna give it for free…’

Dean caught himself singing along with the chorus of ‘What you do for money honey,’ and then thought he’d be better to just shut up.

At this time of night, it didn’t take them long to reach the outskirts of Columbus, and John soon found the old meat-packing plant the card directed him to. It looked gloomy and half-abandoned. In fact, Dean would have thought the place was wholly abandoned, if not for the suspiciously large number of cars outside.

John parked the truck, and they joined the trickle of people heading to a gap in the chain-link fence. Two burly guards and an Alsatian waited for them, beneath a harsh spotlight and a sign announcing the name of the place. Dean had kind of expected it would be called ‘Meat Packers’ or ‘The Fleshpot’ or some equally tawdry pun on its past and present use, but it was called ‘The Sweet Spot’.

It didn’t look very sweet. From a rundown building on the other side of the fence, he could hear thumping music, and see a glow of red light, and the stink of Alpha musk reached his nostrils even from here.

John went up to one of the guards, Dean alongside, and said, ‘I’d like to talk to the manager please,’

‘Why?’ asked the guard.

‘I wanna make a deal,’ said John, and grabbed hold of Dean’s arm, pulling him into the pool of light. The guard looked at him, hungrily, and any remaining hope Dean had had that this night wasn’t going to end like he thought it was going to end evaporated.

‘Sure,’ said the guard, and spoke into a radio on his shoulder. ‘Madam Musk, we’ve got something out here you’re going to want to take a look at. It’s not trouble.’ He glanced over at Dean again. ‘It’s the opposite of trouble.’

‘I’ll be right out,’ said a female voice through the radio, and the guard gestured John and Dean to one side to wait, while he dealt with the next batch of punters. Dean stood still, staring at the cracked asphalt, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He knew he’d screwed up, and now came the part where he had to make it right. That was how things worked, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

‘Well, hello,’ said a woman’s voice, the same voice he’d heard on the guard’s radio, and he looked up into the most coldly appraising pair of eyes he’d ever seen. ‘You must be the something I’ve been called out to look at.’

And you, thought Dean, must be Madam Musk. An exceptionally tall Alpha woman who might have been beautiful, if not for the look on her face, the look that said she knew the price of everything and the value of nothing.

She walked around him in a full circle, examining him from every angle.

‘And what a fine specimen you are,’ she said, ‘strong as an Alpha, pretty as an Omega…’

Without warning, she plunged in to grab him by the hair, and tilted his head back, pulling at his scalp painfully. She studied his face for a moment, then sniffed his neck carefully, even rubbing at the scent glands on either side of his throat with a long fingernail.

‘Mmm, yes, definitely Alpha,’ she said, ‘and a virgin too.’

Dean nearly opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t a virgin, then shut it again. He knew what she meant – he’d never been with an Omega, and he’d never knotted inside anyone else. Fumbling and clumsy blowjobs clearly didn’t count.

Then the woman abruptly let go of his hair, and asked John ‘He yours?’

‘He’s my son,’ said John, ‘and he needs to earn his keep.’

She nodded. ‘He’ll be in demand here with our more… discerning clients,’ she said. ‘How fast do you need the money?’

John hesitated before answering, clearly weighing up whether he should be honest about the urgency, or if that would critically damage his bargaining position. In that hesitation, Dean saw a tiny opening.

‘I could stay here as long as it takes,’ he said, ‘if you need to skip town before then, it won’t be a problem. You could carry on chasing that – business opportunity – we found, and I’ll stay here until I’ve earned what I owe. I’m sure Madam Musk here will look after me.’

He turned his eyes up to her, trying to look innocent and pure. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing – not yet – but he knew he didn’t want John to bargain away access to his body on his behalf, and he knew he could fight off just about anyone who tried to do something to him that hadn’t been bargained for.

Madam Musk twisted her mouth slightly, while John shrugged.

‘Sure,’ he said, ‘he’s old enough to look after himself. Money is more important than time.’

‘I can wait until one of your more discerning clients is ready,’ said Dean, hoping fervently that would do the trick. Discerning sounded better than the sort of thing he’d seen in the parking lot.

‘Well, come on in,’ said Madam Musk, with a smile that spread her lips and went nowhere near those eyes, ‘and I’ll show you around.’

And just like that, they were inside the chain-link fence, following her into The Sweet Spot.

Inside, they found a circular bar in the centre of the cavernous space. Chains and rusted meat hooks hung from the ceiling, and there were half a dozen small stages scattered throughout the roiling crowd, each with its own guard. The atmosphere, and the all-Alpha clientele, were very similar to that other club – The Heat Locker – where John had taken Dean before. On each small stage writhed either a single mostly-naked Omega dancer, or two entirely-naked performers, always one Alpha, and one Omega.

‘Any drinks you order can be put on a tab,’ said Madam Musk, gesturing at the bar. She gave John an appraising look. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I have several clients who are very keen on silver foxes. You could make good money yourself.’

Dean expected John to refuse point-blank, but he just shrugged. ‘Not now,’ he said. ‘I got business elsewhere. Maybe later. And it depends on the client.’

‘Oh, I’ll find you someone you’ll like,’ she said. ‘What’s your type?’

John surprised Dean for the second time in two seconds. ‘Anything except blue-eyed blondes.’

Madam Musk nodded. ‘I’m sure I can come up with something suitable,’ she said, and then flicked her eyes between the two of them. ‘You up for some father-son double team action? ‘Cause I think I know someone who’d be interested-’

‘No,’ said John and Dean together.

She shrugged. ‘Worth asking. Now, I can show you upstairs to the private rooms, if you’d like, while I call around some of my preferred clients… it’s late, but some of them are always eager to meet the right Alpha.’

‘I’ll get chasing that business opportunity, right away,’ said John, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. ‘You take care.’

‘I will,’ said Dean, and let Madam Musk lead him upstairs, without glancing over his shoulder at his father.

She took him to a surprisingly well-furnished room. It had the biggest bed Dean had ever seen, and the biggest television – complete with a shiny new player and games console, an impressive collection of video games, and an even more impressive collection of porn. Most of the DVDs had titles like ‘Spring Break Omega Knotsluts go Wild in Cancun’ or ‘Hardcore Heat: Gang Bangers Part 7’.

‘You can wait here,’ she said. ‘Feel free to watch TV – there’s all the cable channels – or watch any of the DVDs. There’s a bathroom through there if you want to freshen up.’

‘Thanks,’ said Dean. ‘But I’m pretty beat. Is it all right if I just go to sleep for a while?’

‘Of course,’ she said with a smile, ‘sweet dreams.’

Then she left, and Dean was both surprised and relieved that she didn’t lock the door behind her. He went to explore the bathroom, and it was the fanciest bathroom he’d ever seen: all marble, with a jacuzzi bath, and the shower had multi-directional jets of water.

‘What is this place?’ he muttered to himself, as he stripped off his clothes and stepped cautiously into the shower, reaching for the complicated electronic controls. As the water started spraying onto his body from all directions, he realized the answer: a really up-market brothel, and he was the hooker. Well, it could be worse: he remembered the Omega in the parking lot.

After showering and drying himself in the biggest, fluffiest towel in the Rust Belt, he wandered – still naked – into the main room, and flung himself face-down onto the bed. He could lie with arms and legs spread wide, and not touch the edges. The curtains were closed so he couldn’t see if it was light yet, and there wasn’t any clock – he’d left his watch in the bathroom. With no idea what time it was, and nothing else he wanted to do, he closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep, into dreams of yellow eyes and Madam Musk and Omegas in parking lots and playing cards which danced in front of him.

 

 

***

 

Sal went back to Barnes’ Ignoble Books the very next weekend, and while Bela flirted with her barista, he negotiated with Pamela to buy the rest of the Orion and Ophelia books on an instalment plan. A secret instalment plan, to be paid in cash whenever he could, and not mentioned to anyone in his family. She grinned at him, as if they were co-conspirators, which he supposed they were. The look in her eyes was hungrier than ever, and his backpack weighed a ton when filled with all those books, but he didn’t care. He had the rest of the series now, and he knew he’d be devouring them until the sun came up.

He barely slept until he’d read the remaining books – all twenty of them, from The European Eulogy – in which Apollo and Artemis took Orion and Ophelia on a journey to try and find out more about their parents’ maybe-not-so-accidental deaths – to Omega Ocean, in which the two sets of twins, having defeated their enemies and faked their own deaths, finally settled down in a house on the beach on a faraway island in the Pacific and lived happily ever after. The book series ended with a description of Orion and Ophelia swimming naked in the warm sea, while Artemis and Apollo watched them from their terrace and drank Mai Tais.

Sal read those final words, rubbed his aching eyes, and shivered with a mixture of pleasure and regret. There were no more adventures to discover.

The dreams started not long after. At first they were sweet dreams – fuzzy round the edges, but filled with forbidden delights. Apollo and Artemis – and Ophelia, who looked a lot like Jess – featured in them a lot. In these dreams, he would suck and be sucked, penetrate and be penetrated, feel knots swelling inside him, squirm and writhe with pleasure.  He would wake from them, the sheets damp and sticky, his skin hot and sweaty, his breath short.

Then the dreams grew gradually darker, the delights steadily more forbidden, and they got less fuzzy round the edges. Sometimes they seemed as real as his waking life, if not realer, and he caught himself wondering if his life - his parents, his sisters, the ranch, the horses, school and lessons and future plans – was the dream, and the dark world he entered each night was the real world.

In the light of day, he could never exactly remember the details what he dreamed – but he remembered glimpses. Chains. Collars. Fire. A woman in a white nightgown. The smell of sulfur. Flashing yellow eyes. The sky, boiling with storms. Dead cows, their bloody corpses swarming with flies.  And sometimes there were other things – car crashes, shootings, drownings, accidents that weren’t really accidents. Desperate people doing desperate things. Sometimes Sal would see or hear something on the news, and get the uneasy feeling that he’d seen it already, in his dreams.

He still had the wet dreams, but when he woke with sticky sheets, he would often try not to remember what he’d been dreaming about.

Sal didn’t tell anyone about his dreams. But one night, when he awoke and went to the bathroom to clean himself up, he met Bela on the landing on the way back to his room. She jumped to see him, her face wide with terror in the dim light.

‘Sal! What are you doing up this time of night?’ she whispered at him, furious.

‘Going to the bathroom,’ he whispered back. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing. Just – nightmares. That’s all.’

‘You get nightmares?’ he asked her.

‘Yes. What of it?’

‘What kind of nightmares?’

‘The kind that are none of your business,’ she snapped.

‘Ok, I’m sorry. It’s just – I get nightmares too. Sometimes.’

And by sometimes, he meant every night. Except they weren’t always nightmares.

Bela hugged herself, hunched over, and then asked him a strange question. ‘What did you do to get them?’

‘Nothing. They just – come.’

She gave him a sharp look. ‘It’s never nothing,’ she said, ‘you must have done something.’

And then she barged past him to the bathroom, and he was left on the landing, wondering why she would think he must have done something, and what on earth she had done to earn her own nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome.  
> You can find me on tumblr: http://persephone-garnata.tumblr.com/ come and say hi.


	10. The First Time, Not the Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a job to do, and it isn't what he's used to. Sal has a dream, and it isn't what it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is explicit for both (het) sex and violence. There's prostitution - although everything is consensual. And there's an appearance from some of my favorite one-off characters, Andrea and Lucas Barr (from Dead in the Water).

The First Time, Not the Last

 

When Dean woke up, he didn’t know how much time had passed, nor exactly where he was, but he did know somebody else was in the room with him, and it wasn’t his Dad. He rolled onto his side in a protective position, reached for a gun that wasn’t there, and realized he was stark naked.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded, his eyes searching the weirdly luxurious room for a weapon, but there was nothing. Where the hell were his clothes?

‘My name is Andrea,’ said a timid voice from close to the door. ‘Madam Musk sent me here.’

Dean blinked a few times as his vision cleared and he started to remember the events of the night before. He stared at her, trying to make sense of it all. Andrea dropped her eyes and shuffled backwards a couple of steps, nervously. He caught a waft of scent from her – a sweet scent. Omega scent. _Of course._

This room – the brothel. Madam Musk – the pimp. Andrea – the client. And him – the hooker.

The situation made him feel slightly queasy, and yet that delicious scent of Omega hooked on something deep inside him. And this woman – her obvious nerves, her delicate features, her slender body – she was so pretty, and so vulnerable, he just wanted to protect her, take care of her forever and not let anybody else touch her.

No sooner had Dean had that thought, than he saw two things he hadn’t noticed before. The first was the collar around her neck. Much more subtle than the collars he’d seen the Omegas in the shows wearing: but it still covered almost her entire neck, and it looked like it had a padlock on it, to stop them making a pair-bond. And the second thing was the small boy who’d been trying to shelter behind her, with limited success given how thin she was. A small boy with shaggy hair and big frightened eyes. He clutched a drawing pad and a box of crayons.

This just kept getting weirder. Who brings a child with them to visit a hooker? Dean swallowed, and tried to force a smile onto his face.

‘Hi Andrea,’ he said, ‘I’m Dean. I’m sorry if I’m a bit – antsy. You startled me is all.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Andrea, although she didn’t look up. Then she crouched down and spoke to the boy. ‘Lucas, honey, you go into the bathroom over there and play with your crayons while Mummy has a talk with Dean.’

The boy didn’t say anything, but he seemed reluctant.

‘I’ll be right here, honey. I’m not going anywhere. If you need anything, just tap on the door.’

The boy nodded, and walked into the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of water started up – he’d turned the shower on.

‘Is he gonna be okay in there?’ Dean asked.

Andrea stood up, and gave him a weak smile. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to have to bring him with me. But since his Daddy died, he won’t leave my side.’

‘I – um – I’m sorry,’ said Dean.

‘Don’t be, it ain’t your fault. And I didn’t come here to talk about my son. I have my therapist for that.’

‘What did you come here for?’ Dean asked, and realized exactly how stupid that sounded about half a second later.

Andrea gave him another smile, and walked over to the bed. She had very slightly crooked teeth, Dean noticed, which just made her prettier.

‘Says the man who’s already naked,’ she said, and glanced down at his half-hard dick.

‘Oh shit,’ said Dean, and jumped up from the bed. ‘I left all my clothes in the bathroom!’

‘That’s all right, Lucas won’t touch them, he’s a good boy,’ said Andrea.

‘Yes, but – it’s not just clothes. I have stuff in the pockets. Dangerous stuff.’

‘Like what? Matches?’

‘Yeah, matches. Among other things.’ Like knives, and a loaded gun… ‘I really don’t think you should leave your little boy alone in there. At least let me grab my clothes.’

Andrea sighed. ‘All right,’ she said. She walked over to the bathroom door and knocked softly.

‘Lucas, Mommy’s friend Dean just needs to come in and get something real quick.’

No answer, but the door opened a crack, and Lucas peered through, before opening it all the way. Andrea put one arm around him, looked back over her shoulder, and nodded at Dean.

Dean scrambled off the bed and walked awkwardly across the room, holding his hands in front of his crotch. As he brushed past the little boy, he caught a whiff of a half-familiar scent and realized something: the kid was an Omega too.

A half-orphan Omega boy, just like his long-lost little brother. The brother he’d sworn to look after, but hadn’t seen since he was a baby, had no idea where he was or if he was even still alive.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and took several deep breaths, steadying himself. He could do this. He’d been in fights, killed monsters – like that kerit which had nearly ripped his head off – he could manage to please one very pretty Omega lady and earn his keep. Easy. Not just easy – fun.

He scooped up his discarded clothes, making sure all his weapons were still there, and went back into the bedroom. Andrea gave Lucas a little push, and he walked silently to the bathroom, glancing up at Dean with big sad eyes as he went past. Dean smiled at the child, and said ‘Hey buddy, what pictures are you gonna draw?’

Lucas made no reply.

‘He doesn’t talk,’ said Andrea. ‘Hasn’t done since…’ She let the sentence trail off. The bathroom door closed behind Lucas, and they were alone again.

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. He just dumped his clothes on the floor and laid back down on the bed.

 ‘Life as an Omega widow with an Omega son isn’t easy,’ said Andrea. ‘Especially not with a –troubled – child. I manage fine most of the time, but sometimes – I need a release.’

‘And that’s where I come in. A release.’ Dean hadn’t meant to sound bitter.

‘More than a release. I need someone to take care of me for a little while. Make me forget everything else.’

Dean swallowed. ‘I’ll try my best,’ he said. ‘So – should you take your clothes off now?’

Andrea laughed. ‘You’re real smooth,’ she said. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you an Alpha is supposed to just tear off his Omega’s clothes? Preferably with his teeth.’

‘No. I – I’ve never actually done this before.’ Dean felt his face getting hot with embarrassment. He was totally screwing this up. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not what Madam Musk promised you, am I?’

‘Oh no, you’re exactly what she promised,’ said Andrea, and she climbed onto the bed, hovering her body over him.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. She promised me a young Alpha guy with the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. And here you are.’

Dean’s face got even hotter.

‘You’re even prettier when you blush,’ she said, and he finally seized the moment and kissed her. She seemed to like it.

He rolled her onto her side, and started fumbling with her clothes. There were too many buttons, and – despite what she’d said before – he really didn’t want to rip anything.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, and stood up, pulling her shirt straight over her head without bothering to undo the buttons. She had no bra on underneath: her breasts were small and pert, her body thin and almost fragile-looking. She took something out of her pocket, kicked off her shoes, and then pulled off her jeans too, climbing onto the bed in only the collar and her panties. Lacy panties, as small as delicate as she was.

‘You can take these off,’ she said. Dean put his hands on her hips and paused there, just looking at her, unable to quite believe what was happening to him, drunk on the scent of her, strong and rich despite the collar covering the glands in her neck. He’d expected this transaction to be tawdry and rushed and difficult, and instead it was – awkward in ways he had never anticipated, but also strangely beautiful.

It didn’t take long for his hormones to kick in and send all the blood rushing to his dick, replacing any logical thought with the primal need to claim this Omega for his own, to mate with her and then fight off anyone who ever tried to hurt her. He pushed her onto the bed, yanked the panties down, and parted her thighs so he could get at that sweet sweet space between her legs, warmth and soft downy hair and that delicious nectar only Omegas could provide.

He’d been down on chicks before, sure, but never like this, never lapped up everything he could reach and pushed his tongue inside to get more, never felt like he needed it like he needed oxygen. Andrea lay back, making little sounds of pleasure, one hand resting gently on his head, occasionally clenching in his hair. And he wanted to make it good for her, wanted so badly to please her, not just because he was getting paid for this but because he wanted her to be happy. He slid his tongue up to her clit again and pushed two fingers inside her, trying to fill her up although he knew only one thing could truly do that.

When she came, she made hardly any noise, but he felt her pussy contracting round his fingers, squeezing and then relaxing again, trying to clamp onto a knot that wasn’t there.

His dick, thick and heavy with blood, twitched in sympathy.

‘You’ll need this,’ she said, and passed him something – the thing she’d taken from her jeans pocket. A condom, he saw – a special Alpha condom like the ones his dad had given him, with extra space for the knot.

‘Yeah,’ he said, and realized he hadn’t even thought about protection. Just as well one of them knew what they were doing. He ripped the packet open and rolled the condom on, managing to do it reasonably smoothly.

To his surprise, she didn’t lie still, waiting for him to penetrate her. Instead she sat up, and when he’d finished putting the condom on, she climbed into his lap and slowly lowered herself onto him, so he could watch his dick disappearing inside her, inch by inch.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and put his arms around her, holding her steady while she moved up and down. It felt – incredible. His eyes lost focus, his mind shut down, and everything in the world contracted to this moment, this woman, this connection.

Of course he knew what it felt like to come, and for the knot to swell, but he’d never before experienced what it was like to have somebody else there, with him in more ways than one, an Omega whose body had been made to match his.

She cried out this time, and he felt her pussy contract again – but this time the muscles found his knot, and their two bodies became as one.

After the initial wave of pleasure receded, she flopped her head against his shoulder.

‘It feels so good,’ she said. Dean didn’t say anything, but stroked her hair and rocked her slightly, feeling both happy and confused by what they’d done.

After a few minutes, they were still just as firmly clamped together. Dean had known this would happen, but he didn’t know exactly when he could expect them to separate. Porn movies often claimed stuff like ‘Twelve-Hour Knot-Fests!’ and the performers in the shows seemed to last a while, but he didn’t know what was normal, and he’d never felt like he could ask his dad.

‘Um,’ said Dean, ‘how long do you think this is gonna last?’

Andrea lifted her head and smiled at him. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It varies.’ She moved a little, testing the strength of the bond. ‘You’ve got a good strong knot,’ she said. ‘I’d say at least half an hour.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Dean.

‘We can watch some tv if you’d like?’

‘No, it’s ok, I just – want to sit quietly.’

‘Suits me.’ She put her head back onto his shoulder. Dean shuffled them up the bed until he could lean against the headboard, and cradled her in his lap as if she were precious. And for that time, she was.

The room was silent but for their breathing, and the sound of running water in the bathroom. Dean hoped Lucas was still all right in there.

In the end, the toughest part of the transaction wasn’t pleasing her, it was letting her and her son walk away, when every fiber of his body was telling him he needed to protect them both. But he knew deep-down she might be an Omega, but she could never be _his_ Omega.

 

 

***

It was a blazing hot summer, even by Texas standards. The ancient air-conditioning in the house couldn’t cope with the heat, and neither could anybody else. Even the horses and cattle seemed listless. In early August, the new horse Jo had been so excited about arrived on the ranch. A glossy roan Alpha mare, she looked beautiful but proved so bad-tempered only Bobby and Ellen were allowed to ride her, and Sal certainly didn’t want to go anywhere near her.

 Sal spent most of his waking hours – when he wasn’t surreptitiously re-reading The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia – swimming with his sisters in the creek near the ranch house, splashing each other, playing ball games, drinking soda from the cooler and generally trying to stay cool and not get bitten by too many bugs. And growing. He did an awful lot of growing that summer.

‘Jesus, Sal,’ said his mother, measuring him against her shoulder one morning, ‘I swear you are getting an inch bigger every goddamn week! You are gonna be the tallest in your class by the time school starts again.’

‘I’ll just be happy not to be the smallest,’ he said, and it was true. He was fed up of looking about ten years old, and getting teased for his size.

‘My, aren’t you turning into a tall drink of water,’ said Pamela, the next time he went into her bookstore. She looked him up and down and licked her lips. ‘You’ve gained several inches since I last saw you. And you’re taller as well.’

Sal blushed and ducked into the back room to browse the ‘Romance’ section. He never managed to find anything half as good as Orion and Ophelia, but he kept looking.

He didn’t seem to grow evenly though. His legs and arms grew too long for his body, his hands and feet grew too big for his slender limbs, and he couldn’t seem to control any of them properly, constantly stumbling, banging his head, and knocking things over. Only in the water did he seem to be able to move with any elegance, and even then he felt self-conscious of his skinny, clumsy body when he climbed out and lay in the sun. His mother told him he was ‘coltish’ and would grow into himself soon enough, but in the meantime he just felt awkward.

Sal struggled to sleep that summer. The heat lay on him like a too-thick blanket, and the dreams disturbed him as well. Often he lay awake for hours in the dead of night. Sometimes he wandered out to the creek with nothing but a towel and a bug lantern, swam naked in the cool water, and dozed on the banks.

One night, after lying in his stuffy bedroom for what felt like forever, staring at the dark, he finally fell straight into an especially vivid dream.

He was walking through a meadow, but not like the meadows as they were right now, all parched and yellow. This was a meadow in the springtime, cool breezes rippling the foxtails and bluebonnets. A stormy sky overhead, but no rain on his face. And nobody else around – just him and the flowers and sky. He wandered happily, brushing his fingers through the long grass, no need to be anywhere or do anything.

Then he saw something up ahead – a horse, grazing peacefully, but not a horse he knew. A huge dark chestnut stallion with a white blaze. As Sal came closer, he breathed in the smell of it, and recognized the earthy tang of Alpha musk. Drawn towards the stallion by something he couldn’t quite have explained, he walked right up next to it – closer than he’d been to a horse in real life for years. The animal’s sheer size took his breath away: the withers were higher than his head – it must be eighteen hands. Almost without meaning to, he reached out to stroke the long mane.

The horse raised its head, and a sharp spike of fear went through him. But it didn’t do anything; it just gazed at him for a second with big dark eyes, and then turned and walked away. Sal followed, trailing behind in the path it trampled through the grass.

Gradually, the horse sped up, moving from a walk to a trot, heading toward a tree at the far edge of the meadow. Sal kept following, even as the horse went from a trot to a canter, its long legs and powerful muscles propelling it along faster than he could keep up. Then it broke into a gallop, leapt into the air, clearing the fence dividing the meadow from the next field with ease, and kept galloping on the other side. Sal ran after, strangely desperate not to let this strange horse get away from him, but soon he had no breath, a stitch in his side, and shooting lactic acid pains down his legs. He leaned against the tree, panting, trying to see where the horse had gone; but it had disappeared.

Sal climbed over the fence, hoping for some sign – but when he got into the next field, everything had changed. A dark hot summer night instead of a spring day; a ranch house that hadn’t been there before. And now Sal moved not on two legs but on four, closer to the ground, the air filled with smells which lured him on.

He ran up onto the ranch house porch, and smashed right through the door. He heard frightened screams coming from upstairs, knew they were because of him, and he liked it. He ran – no, bounded up the stairs, and followed the sound of screaming into a bedroom.

A king-sized bed, and two people in it, both in their pajamas: an Alpha woman with golden-brown hair, and a dark-haired Omega man.  As soon as Sal burst in, the woman leapt up, putting herself in front of her husband. Yet the way her eyes searched the room frantically suggested to Sal she couldn’t see him, didn’t know exactly where the threat would come from, only that it would come soon, and she needed to be between it and the Omega.

Even in his dream state, Sal recognized the gesture for what it was: an Alpha, doing anything she could to protect her mate. In his waking, human life, he would have found it touching. Now, he didn’t care: he just launched himself at the woman, and ripped her open with his claws.

Blood and heat and screaming, the delicious taste of human flesh in his mouth. The woman managed to yell a single word before her life winked out: ‘Run!’

 The Omega man ran away, eyes wide with terror. Sal didn’t care. He’d eaten his fill, taken her soul, done his job. The Omega would have made a tasty dessert, but he wasn’t necessary.

 

***

 

Sal woke up, drenched in sweat, the bile rising in his throat. He’d had plenty of nightmares before, but never quite like that. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, only just making it in time to throw up in the toilet and not all over the floor. He’d half expected his vomit to be full of blood and raw half-chewed lumps of flesh from the Alpha woman. It came as a profound relief to see the quesadillas he’d eaten for dinner. Sal retched again, and again, until there was nothing left inside him to come up except thin green bile. He flushed the toilet, and slumped on the bathroom floor, shivering despite the heat.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there before he heard a knock at the door, and then Bela, speaking quietly: ‘Sal, are you in there? Are you ok?’

‘Yes,’ he said, his voice ragged, ‘and no.’

‘Are you going to let me in?’

Sal stood up, his legs shaky, unlocked the door, and opened it. Bela looked at him, her eyes haunted.

‘More dreams?’

‘More dreams. Worse than before. More… real.’

‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘Not really.’

‘All right. I need to pee.’

She started to brush past, then pulled him into a brief but tight hug. He realized he was now the same height as her. She didn’t speak again, just pushed him gently out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Sal knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep that night, but he didn’t want to leave the house – that would be too much like his dream. So he sat up and re-read one of his Orion and Ophelia books, in which they were kidnapped again while travelling in Europe, but Apollo and Artemis were able to find them thanks to the tracking chips they’d had embedded in their necks.

He went down to breakfast bleary-eyed, knowing it would be a struggle to get through the day, but not knowing what awaited him.

‘You heard this on the radio?’ his father was asking his mother. ‘Terrible thing. Happened last night, the next county over.’

‘No, what’s that?’ his mother asked, busying herself with coffee and bacon. None of Sal’s sisters were up yet.

‘Wild animal. Attacked a young couple, in their own home. Killed the wife, husband only just escaped.’

‘Oh Lordy. We’re none of us safe,’ said Ellen. ‘Better keep all the doors locked and the shotgun ready.’

‘You’re right about that,’ said Bobby, and then glanced up to see his son, frozen in the doorway. ‘You ok there, Sal?’

‘An animal attack,’ said Sal, slowly, the horror twisting in his stomach. ‘Last night?’

‘Yep. ‘Bout sixty miles from here. It came right into their bedroom while they were sleeping, ripped that poor woman apart.’

‘And her husband… what happened to him?’

‘He got away. She was protecting him, they said on the news bulletin. She was an Alpha. He was her Omega mate.’

‘What’s happening to him now?’ Sal was almost shouting, his fists clenched so that his fingernails dug into his palms. He could see the wide terrified eyes of the man from his dream as clearly as he could see his parents. Except – was it actually a dream?

Sal knew, on one level, that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have made a round trip of a hundred and twenty miles in the night, on foot. He didn’t have claws. He couldn’t have killed that woman. And yet – he’d seen it so vividly, he’d _been_ that creature. He felt responsible.

‘I don’t know. Calm down, son. I know it’s bad, but there ain’t nothing we can do.’

‘But there is!’ Sal burst out. ‘We can offer him a job on the ranch. There’s always work needs doing, you say that yourself. We can give him a home. We can look after him.’

‘We can’t go taking in every waif and stray in Texas, Sal. I expect he’s got other family who’ll take care of him.’

Sal couldn’t say anything. He just clenched his fists even tighter in mute frustration. Then his mother came over, and wrapped her arms around him.

‘It’s ok, honey, it’s ok,’ she murmured to him, and then spoke to her husband. ‘He’s upset because it’s a male Omega in trouble. It’s understandable. I think we should make enquiries, see if there’s anything we can do.’

Bobby made a huffing noise like a bad-tempered bear, but he said ‘All right. I’ll see.’

‘Thank you Dad,’ said Sal, walking over to the table and sitting down heavily.

‘I ain’t making a promise,’ said his father, although they both knew that was his way of making a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry this update has been so long in coming, I hope it was worth the wait. Comments are very welcome as always, and please feel free to swing by tumblr and say hi any time: http://persephone-garnata.tumblr.com/


	11. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets up with John again after his experience with Andrea.  
> Sal deals with the real-life consequences of his disturbing dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No explicit sexual or violent content in this chapter, although brief references are made.  
> Fairly short chapter this time, hope to have more for y'all soon!

Aftermath

 

                When Dean emerged from his encounter with Andrea, feeling dazed and with a slight ache inside he couldn’t shift, he discovered his father downstairs in the now-empty bar, talking to Madam Musk.

‘Ah, the pretty young Alpha,’ she said, turning to him with a shark-like smile. ‘How did it go?’

Dean shrugged.

‘Well, you made Andrea very happy,’ she said. ‘She’s asked me to let her know if you’re ever in town again.’

Dean felt a tiny swooping sensation in his stomach at the thought of seeing Andrea again, but he couldn’t tell if it was happiness, or dread.

‘And you’ve certainly earned your money,’ she said. She reached into her purse, pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and carefully peeled off twenty of them. She handed them over to him.

Two thousand bucks, for one night of pleasuring a lonely but pretty Omega. He’d had much harder days of work for much less reward. Dean grunted his thanks, trying not to look surprised.

He couldn’t conceal his surprise a moment later, when Madam Musk peeled off more notes – thirty of them – and handed them to his father. John took them in silence and flashed Dean a look that told him clearly he should never, ever ask what he’d done to earn them.

They walked out of The Sweet Spot into the cold dawn light, and John drove them back out of Columbus before the morning rush hour. The bar where they’d played the ill-fated poker game was now shuttered up, but the man who’d loaned Dean his buy-back money still lurked near the door, as did the Omega male who’d been selling his body. They were sharing a cigarette. In the unforgiving daylight, they both looked pale and sickly.

‘Hey,’ said loan guy, as he saw them pull up and get out of the car. ‘The other guys said I was nuts to trust you, but here you are. Shows you can still have faith in people, huh?’

‘You’re right,’ said John. ‘There are still honest men out there.’

‘You got my money?’ the man asked Dean, his tongue wetting his lower lip in anticipation.

‘Sure do,’ said Dean, and pulled $500 out of his jeans pocket. He handed it over, and the man looked at it as if the bills would bite him.

‘It’s good hard cash,’ said Dean. ‘What I owe you.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather keep that cash, and pay me back some other way?’

‘I’m sure.’

Reluctantly, the man took the money, and tucked it into his own pocket. The Omega next to him made no secret of ogling the money like a starving man ogles hamburgers. The two of them shared a glance, and then disappeared around the back of the bar.

‘Right,’ said John, ‘we’d better pack up our stuff and skip town.’

‘Are you sure?’ Dean asked, scrubbing a hand over his face. It sounded a lot like running away to him.

‘I’m sure. Azazel’s got us on the back foot, and we've got no idea where he's gone. We should hole up at the Elkins ranch for a time, try to work out our next steps.’

And so they left Ohio, heading back to Colorado, on the lookout for jobs as they went. Business as usual, but Dean couldn’t shake that dull ache he couldn’t quite identify.

 

***

 

                ‘All right, son,’ said Bobby over breakfast, ‘you remember that promise I didn’t make you a few days ago?’

                ‘About the survivor of that animal attack?’ Sal asked, adding more fresh blueberries to his stack of pancakes.

                ‘What promise?’ asked Bela, adding more creamer to her coffee.

                ‘I didn’t promise your brother I would try and find a place on the ranch for the Omega husband of that poor woman who got ripped to pieces by a wild animal.’

Bela’s eyes widened. She put her coffee cup down, as if her hand was trembling too much to hold it. Sal hadn't described his dream to her in full gory detail, but he'd given her an idea of what it had been like.

                ‘Did you find something?’ asked Sal.

                Bobby made a noise that sounded a bit like ‘hmnphm’. ‘I ain’t found nothing permanent,’ he said. ‘But Rufus says he needs help managing our bloodlines, and apparently this guy is good at breeding horses. I’ve arranged to take him on as a temporary advisor, with accommodation over the stable block.’

                ‘Thank you!’ said Sal, and flung his now-long-and-skinny arms around his father’s neck.

                ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Bobby, and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Boy, you’re growing like a weed. Soon you’ll be taller than I am. Now, if you want to meet this guy for yourself, he’ll be arriving in a minute. So eat your breakfast and get yourself outside. He’s here because of you, so you can at least say hi.’

                ‘He’s arriving already?’ Sal sat down and shovelled his pancakes into his mouth, feeling a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. He’d done what he could to help this complete stranger, out of nothing more than Omega fellow-feeling and the memory of a weird dream. Actually coming face-to-face with him… what would that be like? As he concentrated on eating, he barely noticed that his sister seemed to have lost her appetite, and gone back upstairs.

                A few minutes later, he heard a car pulling up outside, swallowed the last morsel of his breakfast, walked out onto the porch, and met his nightmare.

                It was him. Definitely him. The man from his dream, climbing out of an old Cadillac. Wearing jeans and a blue shirt instead of pajamas, and with resigned misery on his face rather than abject terror, but definitely the man he’d seen in that bedroom, through the eyes of a predator. For a moment, Sal expected the man to recognize him and run away screaming, but there was no flicker of recognition on his prematurely lined face.

                ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘This the Singer ranch?’

                ‘Sure is,’ said Sal. ‘I’m Sal Singer. Pleased to meet you.’ He walked the few steps down from the porch onto the driveway and held out his hand, hoping he wasn’t visibly shaking. He could smell a faint scent of Omega in the air, but there was none of the animal bloodlust he’d experienced before.

                ‘Jimmy Novak,’ said the man, and shook his hand with a grip so gentle Sal could barely feel it. He had huge, sky-blue eyes, filled with sadness. Around his neck Sal could see a thin leather collar, and dangling from it a small round metallic tag, carved around the edge with a beautifully detailed design of intertwined roses. And in the centre, three initials, also intertwined: A, J, and N.

                ‘A gift from my wife,’ said Jimmy, seeing that Sal had noticed it.

                ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,’ said Sal, feeling his face turn red.

                ‘It’s okay,’ said Jimmy, and gave a deep sigh. ‘You’re an Omega. You’ll understand. Amelia wasn’t just my wife, she was my mate, my protector – my Alpha. My everything. Now she’s gone…’

He looked around. ‘I don’t know what to do with myself.’

                ‘I hope you’ll find a place here,’ said Sal, softly.

                ‘I hope so too,’ said Jimmy.

                Sal cleared his throat. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. ‘I’m really sorry to ask this,’ he said. ‘But – did you see anything?’

                Jimmy knew immediately what he meant. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I saw nothing. The police kept asking me, thinking I _must_ have seen something, but I must have been half-asleep or half-crazed with fear or something, because I saw nothing. It was like – an invisible monster attacked her.’

                An invisible monster. Sal remembered how the Alpha woman – Amelia – had stared blindly as he approached her in his dream form, as if she had sensed his presence, but not been able to see him.

                ‘She was so brave,’ said Jimmy, and wiped his eye. Sal had no idea what to say.

                ‘Hey,’ called out Rufus, approaching the house from the direction of the stables, ‘you Novak?’

                Jimmy visibly squared his shoulders before turning around to face him.

                ‘Sure am,’ he said, ‘you must be Mr Turner.’

                ‘That’s me,’ said Rufus. ‘I hope you know your horses as well as you claim.’

                ‘Been living with them all my life,’ said Jimmy. ‘My family always said I had a special touch with them.’   

                The opposite of me, then, thought Sal.

                ‘We’ll see,’ said Rufus. ‘We got an Alpha mare here, want to find a suitable sire for her foals. And several others too, including an Omega mare.’

                ‘You got an Alpha stallion?’ Jimmy asked.

                Rufus shook his head. ‘They’re mighty hard to manage,’ he said. ‘Knew a guy once got kicked by an Alpha stallion so badly he nearly died.’

                ‘It can happen,' said Jimmy, without particular emotion.

                ‘You want to see the stock?’

                ‘That would be great.' This time, Jimmy almost managed to sound enthusiastic.

                As he walked off with Rufus, Jimmy glanced over his shoulder, and met Sal’s eyes. And Sal saw in those eyes a strange kind of understanding, one Omega to another. Neither of them had an Alpha; Sal had yet to experience love, while Jimmy had already both loved and lost, and now had to live on the other side of loss. Each of them envied the other, in his own way. But there was also a promise there, that they would look out for each other, as far as they were able, which probably wasn't very far.

Sal swallowed hard, the taste of blueberries still in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments very welcome as ever!  
> Come say hi on tumblr: http://persephone-garnata.tumblr.com/


	12. Life Goes By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues for both our boys... until a new arrival at the ranch disturbs Sal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a strange couple of months for me... things have not entirely gone to plan in either life or writing! Thank you all for your patience in continuing to stick with this story.

Life Goes By

 

Over the next few years, Dean slowly came to realize what that ache was he’d felt at the Sweet Spot: the bone-deep longing for a mate. He’d grown up seeing his father’s deep and lasting mourning for his lost Omega wife, and with Andrea he’d had a glimpse of that mourning from the other side. And now – in a succession of illicit clubs and specialty brothels scattered across the country, he saw many more facets of life as both an Alpha and an Omega.

After the incident in Ohio, John and Dean developed a silent agreement that, whenever a suitable opportunity presented itself, they would earn money by selling their bodies. Dean never asked to become a body-for-sale, but it happened nonetheless, like so much else in his life. And he respected the fact that John never asked him to do anything he wasn’t prepared to do himself. In fact, judging by how much money John earned, Dean sometimes wondered exactly what kind of service his father was providing. Was he indulging all kinds of kinky fetishes, for spanking and rubber and watersports or things he didn’t even want to think about? Or were lonely Omegas just prepared to pay a lot of money for a big, strong, handsome, Daddy Alpha to take care of them, if only for a night?

He never, ever asked.

He learned a lot of other things though. He learned – if his observations of Andrea and his own father hadn’t been enough – that an Alpha or an Omega who has known a full bond can never form another bond after their mate has died. Sure, they can date and have sex with and even marry another partner, but the bond would never be quite the same.

He learned that there were Omegas who’d escaped abusive Alphas and were now living independently, but still needed an occasional knot to satisfy their primal instincts. He learned there were Betas curious about the knot, but they couldn’t take it – any attempts to do so ended in disaster, and usually hospital. He learned there were Omegas who hadn’t found a mate and went into their first heat in their mid-twenties, and had to sequester themselves at home lest they fall prey to their basest needs and bond with any passing Alpha, suitable mate or not. Of course, the heat passed more quickly – and a lot less painfully – if they or their family could order in a suitable Alpha-for-hire to give them the knot.

These were both the most lucrative engagements, and the most dangerous. Dean learned that the smell of an Omega in heat – a real heat, not a chemically-induced one – was the most glorious smell in the world, rich and sweet and totally, utterly irresistible. That was why it was so essential that the Omega wore a collar to which neither she nor he had the key – because the urge to scent-mark, and bite, and claim, was so overwhelming. On both sides. But once they’d done that, there could be no going back.

Dean knew, logically, he didn’t want to make his one-and-only life-long bond with just anyone, hence the need for those big collars. And afterwards, with the money in his pocket and the scent slowly fading, he knew that this was the best way, the only sensible way. Still, that smell… in the moment it over-rode all his logical, reasoning functions, went straight to some ancient biological imperative.

He mentioned this to his father once, who gave him a sad look and said ‘Wait until you smell an Omega who’s gone into heat because of you, because you’ve touched her and kissed her and told her you love her. You’d walk through the fires of Hell itself to get to her and make your bond.’

Then he drank whiskey until he passed out, and Dean wished he’d said nothing.

He had clients both male and female, but the men were much rarer than the women. Omega men were usually small and fragile, and he learned that while he didn’t mind servicing their sexual needs, he couldn’t see himself falling for one. In fact, it was difficult to imagine himself falling for anyone; when, given his lawless itinerant lifestyle, would he ever had the chance?

And when he was nineteen, he learned that a bratty spoiled rich Omega called Rhonda Hurley would pay him an extra thousand dollars to try on her panties and let her take his picture lying sprawled on her enormous heart-shaped bed.

These sexual explorations might occupy his thoughts, but they occupied little of his time. Most of that was spent with his father, desperately trying to chase Azazel, to research Azazel, to discover a way to hurt or kill Azazel. Always the demon seemed to be one step ahead – the cattle deaths and freak storms which marked his passing scattered randomly, the sightings of a man with yellow eyes fleeting. They chased portents and rumors of a magical weapon which could kill anything across the country – and always arrived a day too late.

Dean felt like they were being deliberately taunted.

The rest of the time, they hunted whatever evil things they could find. They dug up graves and burned bones. They exorcised demons and broke curses. Every year Dean became harder and sharper, a weapon being forged. The only time he allowed himself any softness at all was when he was with horses. He spent time at the ranch in Colorado whenever he could, helping Elkins keep the place afloat in that sea of whiskey. Out on cases, he took casual work as a ranch hand or cowpoke. He herded sheep in northern California, exercised the horses at a stud farm in Wyoming, practiced his rodeo skills under the Montana skies, even taught at a riding school for rich kids in Connecticut.

And so, day by day, week by week, case by case, mile by mile, year by year, his life went by.

 

***

 

Sal just kept on growing.  His legs and arms got longer and longer, his hands and feet grew enormous, while his body stayed skinny, struggling to catch up. His mother kept saying he’d start to fill out eventually, but it didn’t seem about to happen any time soon.

Other things grew bigger too, to the extent that he started to dread gym class at school because his outgrown shorts just weren’t big enough to cover everything. He had to beg his father to buy him a new, much longer pair of shorts, explaining the exact nature of the problem to him in secret and with a very red face. Bobby just nodded, clapped him on the shoulder, and said he couldn’t promise anything.

A new pair of much longer shorts was waiting for him in his bedroom the following day, along with some new underwear which helped keep everything under control.

Apart from that embarrassment, his experience of school changed now he wasn’t the smallest in the class. The bullies didn’t try to challenge him physically – but his size still made him stick out. It felt like he went straight from being the runt to being the beanpole without ever going through an intermediate stage of being average size. His studiousness, and his Omega nature also made him conspicuous. And so he tried to hide – in quiet corners and baggy clothes. He hunched his shoulders most of the time to make himself smaller, and grew his hair to partially hide his face, his bangs merging with his eyebrows. Celeste and Jess were the only others who could really empathize with him, and even they were still different.

The only other Omega male he knew was Jimmy, who stayed on at the ranch, a quiet presence carrying around with him always a sense of sadness. His work was good enough to keep him on the payroll, but he didn’t seem to want to socialize much, not with the other ranch hands and certainly not with the ranch owners’ teenage son.

And so, while his life was tranquil enough, Sal continued to feel strangely isolated. It didn’t help that as his sisters grew older, they drifted away, mentally if not physically. Once he didn’t their help anymore, either with his school work or with protecting himself from harm, Jo and Ruby spent less and less time with him, and more and more time outdoors. They worked on the ranch, they went on hunting trips, they and Jimmy went to visit ranches and rodeos in search of more bloodstock, and in between all that, they went on long rides. Even the bookish Bela – the closest to him in both age and inclinations – withdrew from him into what their parents called a ‘moody teenage phase’. They all still loved him, he knew that, but they didn’t really seem to understand him. His only real sources of comfort were his dreams of one day becoming a crusading lawyer, a champion of Omega rights - and his increasingly battered collection of Orion and Ophelia paperbacks. On the one hand, he badly wanted to protect Omegas from the kinds of bondage they could fall into so easily if they were victims of unregulated hormones and unscrupulous Alphas. He wanted all Omegas, especially himself, to be independent, their decisions and their lives guided by logic and reason, not by atavistic lusts and certainly not by domineering Alphas.  On the other hand, those books were always falling open at the pages which described the Omegas being chipped and collared, held prisoner and humiliated, or going into heat, rendered helpless by their own hormones. And the fantasies he indulged, late at night, were far more lurid than anything even in those books.

Even later at night, he still had dreams. His dreams became – well, it wasn’t so much that they became less frequent or less disturbing, as that he became more used to them. He came to accept them as an inevitable part of his life, and told himself that the strange coincidences he sometimes observed between the things he’d dreamed and the things he saw in waking life were just that – strange coincidences.

Then Sable arrived.

It was an early summer afternoon, not long after his seventeenth birthday, and the heat of the season was just rising – hot enough to be pleasant outside, not too hot to chase everyone into the nearest air-conditioned space. He had invited Jess and Celeste to the ranch after school to study chemistry, although mostly what they were doing was sitting on the paddock fence, idly watching the horses and the ranch hands and gossiping.

‘What I don’t get about Brady,’ Celeste was saying, ‘is why does he have to be such a colossal dick all the time? I mean, it must take a lot of effort to be that much of a jackass. Just think, if he was nice to people, how much energy he’d have left for other things. Like studying. And even if he didn’t free up any brain power, he might get more out of people.’

‘How do you mean?’ Sal asked. He’d always hated Brady, and found it hard to imagine how he could get any more out of anyone without squeezing them to death.

‘Like, last week he tried to get me to help him with his computer homework. Which fine, I’m good at that stuff and he’s a total dumbass, it wouldn’t actually have been much effort to give him some pointers. But the way he asked me – it was like he thought he was doing _me_ a favour, not the other way round. So I told him where to get off.’

‘He likes you,’ said Jess.

‘What?’ said Sal and Celeste together.

Jess shrugged, and idly plucked a long stem of grass. ‘He likes you,’ she repeated. ‘As in, likes you likes you.’

‘Really?’ asked Celeste. ‘He’s sure got a strange way of showing it.’

‘Well, he’s an Alpha knucklehead who thinks if he tells an Omega chick what to do she’ll be all over him. He doesn’t know any better. It’s kind of sad, really.’

‘Why would he like me?’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Jess said, and made a general gesture at Celeste, who ducked her head and shifted uncomfortably on her fence-perch.

‘I’m not… like that,’ she said, and Sal found himself agreeing. Jess’s blonde hair and pretty face and newly-developed curves caught most everyone’s eye, but Celeste – as shy as Sal himself and even more nerdy - hid her figure under baggy clothes. And while her red hair was striking, her face was a little goofy, with a prominent over-bite. But clearly, Jess – and maybe Brady as well - saw something in her that Sal missed.

Before the conversation could continue, they heard a commotion over in the main driveway. Sal stood up on the fence, and saw the battered old horse van pulled up in front of the stables.

‘Looks like Jimmy and Ruby are back,’ he said.

‘Where have they been?’ Jess asked, standing up next to him.

‘They’ve been trying to buy a new Alpha stallion. Looks like they found one.’

As they watched, they saw Jimmy trying to coax a horse out of the back of the van, without much success.

‘Looks like they found a wild one,’ said Celeste, as more people gathered round the van, and they heard a loud, angry neigh. Rufus approached, went inside the van, and then retreated, swearing and clutching at his hand.

‘What is going on?’ asked Jess, and then said ‘We should go take a look.’

Sal, for no reason he could properly identify, felt a small sharp knife of foreboding in his stomach. Before he could protest, Jess has jumped off the fence and started off towards the stables. Celeste and Sal trailed behind, with less enthusiasm.

As they drew closer, and saw the creature inside the van, Sal felt that knife twist in his guts.

He knew that horse. A huge Alpha stallion, dark chestnut with a white blaze. A beautiful and terrifying animal, fierce and strong. He’d seen it in his dream, the night Jimmy’s wife had died.

Jimmy himself gave no sign he saw anything amiss, other than the fact that they had a recalcitrant piece of livestock on their hands.

‘Come on,’ he said, sounding a bit petulant, ‘someone must be able to handle him!’

‘If you can’t handle him, why did you buy him?’ asked Rufus, still nursing his hand.

‘He’s great breeding stock!’ said Jimmy. ‘We can mate him with Daisy.’

‘I’m not letting him anywhere near Daisy until we’ve broken him in,’ said Rufus.

‘Well we can’t break him in until we get him in the paddock,’ said Jimmy, his normally calm composure obviously ruffled. Then he glanced up and saw Sal. ‘Well don’t just stand there looking like you’ve never seen a pissed-off stallion before! Come and help.’

Sal held his hands out between himself and the horse, like that would make any difference. ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘I’m staying away of that animal. If he’s bitten Rufus…’

‘He’s fine,’ said Jimmy, and then the horse whinnied loudly and kicked out towards him, almost knocking him off his feet.

‘I’ll get Dad!’ said Sal, and ran to the house. His two girl friends hesitated for a moment, then followed.

Eventually, Bobby and Rufus and several more ranch hands managed to manhandle the new horse into the paddock, although only at the expense of more bites and kicks. They sat on the porch afterwards for ice-cold tea and bandages. Sal cautiously emerged from the house, Jess and Celeste lurking behind, and they stole a little of the tea.

‘Well, Jimmy, you’ve certainly brought us a challenge with this one,’ said Bobby drily.

‘He’ll be fine once he’s settled in,’ said Jimmy, although he didn’t sound too sure. Sal glanced over to where he could see the horse – even the way he cropped the grass seemed somehow aggressive, and Sal didn’t want to get any closer.

‘He got a name?’ Rufus asked.

‘Guy I bought him off called him Sable,’ said Jimmy.

Sable. Something in the name chimed oddly against Sal’s nerves, and he remembered his dream again. But it couldn’t be the same horse, he told himself. Don’t be stupid. So many horses in the world, why wouldn’t he dream of one that looked similar to one he met in real life?

‘And he behaved well enough at the stud farm,’ Jimmy added. ‘Reckon it’s just the journey that’s got him wild.’

‘The guy you buy him of an Alpha by any chance?’ asked Rufus. Jimmy nodded.

‘Figured as much,’ said Rufus, but didn’t elaborate.

They sat in silence for a moment, until Bobby said ‘Well, I guess we just gotta hope he calms himself down soon, or else we’ve got trouble on our hands.’

Sal privately agreed, although he suspected they might have trouble on their hands either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments welcome as ever.


	13. Lone Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The signs of Azazel draw Dean to Texas, and he ends up on a certain ranch...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 30,000 words in, and our two heroes finally meet!  
> THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Lone Star

 

It was four years after the disastrous poker game and the Sweet Spot, two years after Dean’s encounter with Rhonda Hurley, and almost six months after his twenty-first birthday. Not that being twenty-one made much or indeed any difference to his life; he’d been introduced to both beer and hard liquor long before, and he used a false ID anyway.

He sat in the latest dingy motel room, this one in eastern Oregon, cleaning his weapons after an encounter with a bear which had been possessed by the ghost of a pissed-off truck driver, while Led Zeppelin played on a tinny radio tuned to the local oldies station. There was something oddly soothing in the action of scrubbing the blood off his knife blades and polishing the barrel of his gun, humming along to the riff of ‘Whole Lotta Love’ as he went.

‘Hey,’ said John as he walked in. Dean grunted in response, didn’t bother to look up.

‘I’ve got some news from Elkins,’ said John.

‘Has Brighteyes had her foal?’ asked Dean.

John made a dismissive noise at that. ‘Nothing to do with the horses,’ he said. ‘It’s about the Colt.’

Dean sighed inwardly. His father had been talking – off and on – about this mythical mystical kill-anything gun for years. Elkins had apparently owned it once, but lost it in a house burglary or possibly a poker game, and John made periodic attempts to chase it down, but every possible lead turned out to be a red herring. Privately, Dean suspected that the Colt either no longer existed, or never had existed in the first place, or if it did exist, would turn out to be nothing more than a completely mundane firearm. But he kept these thoughts to himself.

‘What about the Colt?’ he asked.

‘Elkins has heard it’s turned up in an antiques store in Michigan.’

Dean shrugged. ‘Well, I guess we’ve finished up here, we can head there after we’ve called in at the ranch.’ He supposed there were worse places to go than an antiques store in Michigan.

‘There’s more,’ said John.

‘More?’ Dean asked, looking up for the first time.

‘More cattle deaths. Freak storms.’

Another inward sigh, and Dean forced himself to ask, in a reasonably level tone, ‘Where this time?’

‘Texas.’

Dean took a moment to digest this. ‘You want to go to Michigan, and Texas?’ From Oregon. They’d had longer drives, to be fair.

‘We’ll go to Elkins’, then I’ll go on to Michigan in the truck, you take the Impala and head straight to Texas. All the shit’s going down deep in ranch country. You can get a job as a cowpoke while you try to track the bastard down.’

And just like that, John told his son how it was going to be. Which was how Dean found himself on a sticky summer evening shortly afterwards, sitting in a bar in Nowheresville, Texas.

It was the kind of place with a saddle and a pair of bull’s horns mounted above the bar, and twangy country music on the stereo. The beer was – barely – acceptable, but at least the chicken-fried steak was good. The other clientele seemed to be mainly overweight middle-aged Beta guys who didn’t sit too close and gave him occasional curious, not quite hostile, glances. He didn’t bother to try to talk to anyone, not just yet. A strange Alpha sitting alone in a bar in a small rural town could go one of several ways, and Dean wanted to make sure this went one of the peaceful ways. He was here to investigate, not dominate.

Then he breathed in, and, over the scents of cigarette smoke and stale beer and leather and Beta sweat, caught a whiff of something else: Omega.

He looked around, trying not to be too obvious as he did so, and saw an unlikely-looking pair walking over to the bar. A tall, skinny black Beta guy with a big moustache and graying soul patch, and with him a white male Omega, shorter and fairly slight. This didn’t seem like a part of Texas which was too big on racial integration, but the two men didn’t get any hassle from the other clientele, and even a couple of nods, so Dean guessed they were regulars.

As they drew closer, he saw that the Omega guy’s face was lined, but his rumpled hair still dark, and Dean found himself wondering what could have made him age prematurely. Surreptitiously, he breathed in deeply, trying to detect if he was mated or not. He found the scent of a mating bond – but it was very faint, years old, and Dean figured the man’s mate must have either left him or died. A sad fate for any Omega, and he was unconsciously calculating how much the guy might be willing to pay for his knot before he could stop himself.

The Omega glanced over at him and narrowed his eyes a little as if confused, sniffing the air.

‘Hey Jimmy,’ said his companion, elbowing him in the back, ‘what’re you drinking?’

‘Just a beer,’ said the Omega, still looking at Dean, as if unable to tear his eyes away. Dean was familiar with that phenomenon. He smiled, saw the Omega visibly swallow, and mentally raised his prices. The Beta attracted the barman’s attention and put a beer down in front of his friend. Unable to scent the pheromones clogging the air to anything like the same extent as the Alpha and the Omega, he remained oblivious to their silent little interaction – until Jimmy failed to answer his question three times in a row.

He elbowed him again.

‘Hey, Jimmy!’

Jimmy started. ‘Rufus,’ he said, ‘what is it?’

‘I said, still no luck with Sable, got any new ideas?’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘These storms have made everyone skittish.’ He took a long gulp of his beer, and didn’t say anything else.

Rufus finally followed the direction of his eyes, and saw Dean.

Dean smiled in what he hoped was a friendly, open, non-threatening way. Rufus put his own beer down and walked the few steps over to him, standing with arms folded, deliberately positioning himself between him and Jimmy, blocking the sightlines.

‘Hey cowboy,’ he said, ‘you new in town?’

‘Sure am,’ said Dean, trying to put as much southern inflection in his voice as he could. He’d become adept at adapting his accent to suit his location. ‘And looking for honest work. You know of any local ranches that need an extra hand?’

Rufus snorted. ‘Where you learn to work on a ranch?’

‘First Colorado. Then all over. Any kind of horse work, I can do it. Even shovel shit if that’s what needs doing, though that’s a waste of my talents if I say so myself.’

‘That so? What ain’t a waste of your talents?’

‘Herding cattle. Breaking in horses. Don’t matter how skittish they are.’ Then Dean took a leap of faith in the snatch of conversation he’d overheard, and his own abilities. ‘Bet I could sort out that Sable for you.’

‘Oh, you bet, do you?’ Rufus snorted again.

Dean shrugged, and ate another bite of chicken-fried steak washed down with beer before answering. ‘Give me a chance. If I fail, send me packing. If I succeed, you got yourself a new ranch hand who knows what he’s doing. You can’t lose.’

‘Give him a chance, Ruf,’ piped up Jimmy. ‘How else are we going to ever get a saddle on Sable?’

Rufus turned on him. ‘Less chat from you. It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place, and I’m not sure I trust your judgment around handsome young Alphas.’

Jimmy held out his hands in a gesture which was half-shrug, half-surrender.

‘Aw, you think I’m handsome?’ said Dean. ‘But I promise the horses don’t care.’

Jimmy laughed. Rufus turned back to face Dean, an air of defeat in the set of his shoulders.

‘Alright cowboy,’ he said, ‘you got yourself a trial run. Turn up at the Singer ranch tomorrow noon and let’s see what you can do.’

‘Will do,’ said Dean. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’

Rufus just snorted again, and pulled Jimmy away to the far corner of the bar. Dean smiled to himself in satisfaction. Whether he had any luck tracking Azazel or not, he thought he was going to enjoy his time in Texas.

 

***

 

Sal had invited Jess and Celeste over to the ranch. It was now summer vacation so they weren’t even pretending to study, just sitting in the parlor (the room where the air conditioning worked best) playing cards without much enthusiasm. Jess and Celeste were on the couch, sitting closer together than Sal thought strictly necessary, while he sat in an armchair so old that its seat had pretty much caved in and the only way not to fall into its depths was to perch on the very edge and lean his weight forwards over the coffee table so he was bent almost double.

His parents were out in town buying supplies, Bela had gone with them, and his other two sisters were both out riding, although how they could bear it outside in the oppressive heat Sal didn’t know. The electrical storms they’d had last week didn’t seem to have relieved the pressure of the weather at all – if anything, they’d made it worse.

He wasn’t expecting Bobby and Ellen to be back home for hours yet, nor any visitors to call, and so it came as a surprise when they all heard the throaty roar of a car engine out front.

‘Who’s that?’ asked Jess.

‘Doesn’t sound like the truck,’ said Sal. He put down his cards – he had a garbage hand anyway – and wandered onto the porch to take a look. Jess and Celeste trailed after him.

He saw a completely unfamiliar car pulled up outside the house, a small cloud of dust settling around it. It was black and sleek and mean-looking and to his admittedly completely untutored eye it appeared old but well cared-for.

‘Whose car is _that_?’ asked Celeste, and then added, ‘it’s cool.’

‘Nobody I know,’ said Sal, and wondered if he should be fetching his father’s shotgun or not.

The car’s door opened, and someone got out. A much younger someone than Sal had been expecting, given the vintage of the vehicle.

‘Hey,’ he called, ‘this the Singer ranch?’

Sal swallowed, and decided he needed to take control of this situation. He walked down the steps and up to the stranger, his two friends still shadowing him protectively, although what three untrained skinny teenage Omegas could hope to achieve against a tall strong guy if things got really nasty he didn’t know.

A tall, strong, strong, _Alpha_ guy, Sal realized, as he got closer and smelled the tang of musk on the air. He stopped a few paces away, drew himself up to his full height, crossed his arms in what he hoped was an authoritative way, and looked the stranger up and down. Then up and down again, more slowly, trying to process the sight and make his pulse calm down at the same time.

He was wearing cowboy boots. Not well-polished fancy boots, but dusty, battered ones which had clearly seen hard work. Faded blue jeans, the bow-legged stance of someone who spent a lot of time in the saddle, a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show brawny forearms, a chunky black watch round one wrist, a beaded bracelet on the other.

Some of the beads were carved like little skulls. Sal found himself focusing on that bracelet. It meant he didn’t have to look at the stranger’s face, which he couldn’t look at directly in much the same way he couldn’t look directly at the sun.

One of the girls coughed behind him, and he realized he was just standing in silence, staring, and he really ought to say something.

‘Who are you?’ he blurted out.

‘I’m Dean Remington,’ said the stranger, and then repeated his first question. ‘This the Singer ranch?’

‘Yes,’ said Sal.

A moment of silence. Then Dean spoke again.

‘Well, I was in Joe’s Bar yesterday evening, chatting with a couple of your ranch hands, heard you were having some trouble with a horse named Sable. Said I’d come over today and see what I can do.’

‘Oh. Right.’

Luckily for Sal, at that moment Rufus and Jimmy came over from the direction of the stables.

‘Hey cowboy,’ said Rufus. ‘So you made it here.’

‘Sure did. Never can resist a challenge.’

‘I don’t think we were properly introduced last night. I’m Rufus, this here is Jimmy, and this young beanpole is Sal. He’s the son of Bobby Singer, the ranch owner.’

Sal flushed hearing himself described as a ‘young beanpole’. In one fell swoop, he thought, Rufus was destroying any dignity he’d managed to establish in the last couple of minutes.

‘Dean,’ said Dean, and held out his hand. Rufus shook it.

Sal noticed Rufus didn’t bother introducing Dean to his two female friends who were still standing behind him, and had a warning glint in his eye when Dean glanced in their direction. He supposed he couldn’t blame him for not trusting a young Alpha around pretty Omega girls, although he felt like his friends shouldn’t just be ignored. But his own tongue felt dry and swollen in his mouth, incapable of coherent speech, and neither of the girls seemed to want to speak up, and so they all stayed quiet.

‘Alright Dean,’ said Rufus, ‘let’s take you to Sable.’

Surely, thought Sal, as the ranch owner’s son, he should really invite Dean inside the house for an iced lemonade or something before making him face down Sable. But Rufus didn’t seem to think so, and his tongue didn’t loosen itself from where it had stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘One second,’ said Dean. He reached to the back seat of his car, pulled out a coil of rope he slung over his shoulder, and a battered brown Stetson he jammed onto his head.

‘He’s in the top paddock,’ said Rufus, leading the way. ‘He’s a big stallion. Real big.’

‘An Alpha stallion,’ put in Jimmy, following just behind Dean.

‘I figured as much,’ said Dean.

Sal followed, his feet moving without any apparent engagement from his brain. He kept his eyes on the pointed yoke of Dean’s shirt, dead between his shoulder blades. He could hear Jess and Celeste traipsing along as well, everyone ready for the showdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments very welcome.  
> Come say hi on tumblr where you'll find me as persephone-garnata


	14. The Taming of the Stallion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes on Sable while Sal watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I don't really know anything about horses so please take any glaring inaccuracies about how they work as 'because AU' and not 'because I'm a dumbass' thx

The Taming of the Stallion

               

As Dean approached the paddock, he saw the stallion, cropping grass and displaying no interest in him whatsoever. A flick of his tail was probably to swat at a fly, but might also have been to show a general attitude of contempt.

Dean whistled slightly through his teeth. ‘He’s a big one all right,’ he said. ‘And strong too.’

‘Don’t we know it,’ said Rufus.

The motley group of people who’d accompanied him arrayed themselves at the side of the paddock. Rufus near the gate, his arms folded. Jimmy nearby and slightly behind. The three Omega kids lined up along the fence to get a good view. Those Omega kids puzzled Dean. Last night, after Rufus and Jimmy had left, he’d got talking to some of the other guys in the bar, to learn what he could about the Singer ranch. The guys in the bar had warned him to steer clear of the Singer family’s three pretty young daughters if he didn’t want an ass full of buckshot, but they hadn’t mentioned anything about a cute Omega son, and certainly nothing about a pair of Omega girls – who, he noticed, had not been introduced.

Well, that mystery would have to wait. Now, he had an arrogant stallion to deal with. He climbed onto the fence, leaned forward, and whistled. Sable made no response, unless another flick of his tail counted. Dean thought he heard a faint snort of laughter.

‘You want me to fetch you a saddle?’ Rufus asked.

‘No,’ said Dean. ‘I prefer to ride bareback.’

Rufus made an incredulous noise. ‘Suit yourself, cowboy.’

Dean turned his head, and smiled at him. ‘I will, thanks,’ he said, and climbed over the fence, into the paddock.

There was a small chorus of shocked gasps from the teenage contingent. And Jimmy. Sable raised his head, snorted, and started trotting over to take a look at this intruder into his territory, picking up speed as he drew closer. Dean took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and started moving slowly toward him.

Never back down. Never give ground. Never show weakness.

Sable reached him, head down, and tried to knock him over. Dean sidestepped at the last possible moment, pivoted on one heel, and watched the stallion over-run, nearly hitting the fence before he could wheel around.

The Omega kids all took a step back and let out little squeaks of shock. Sable huffed out his breath and came for Dean again.

Again, Dean faced him down, sidestepped, and watched him run past. Dean took a few steps into the middle of the paddock, asserting his right to this ground, and let Sable come for him again. And again. He could keep up this dance for half the day if he had to.

 The horse might be bigger and stronger and faster than him, but he could turn on a dime, and he wasn’t going to give up. Sooner or later, Sable would tire, and then it would come down to who had the stronger will. He kept moving back to the centre of the paddock, letting the horse come to him if he wanted to challenge his dominance, and whenever Sable tried moving round the paddock’s edge, he spun to face him and went slowly toward him, letting him know he would never back down.

As time went on and the broiling hot Texas sun kept beating down, Dean felt the sweat prickle at the back of his neck as his throat dried out. But he could see the lather on Sable’s neck and flanks, hear his panting breath, and knew he would have the upper hand, if he could just keep going.

Sable charged him again, and he sidestepped again, and dodged the rear hooves which came kicking at his face.

‘Like that, is it?’ he muttered, and danced around the horse, ducking beneath his snapping mouth and away from his flailing legs, keeping his body in close, not giving the stallion the victory of any space won. One tiny mistake now could prove fatal – or at least painful and embarrassing – but he trusted himself not to make mistakes.

As he stood on one side of the horse, he tried putting a hand on his back. Sable reached his head back to snap at him; Dean dodged, and, acting on some kind of crazed instinct, ducked and rolled right underneath the horse’s body, came up on the other side, and laid a hand on him.

He vaguely heard some gasps from his audience, but he had eyes only for Sable. Confused by the sudden maneuver, the horse let him put another hand in his mane.

‘There you go, boy,’ he said, and decided to take a risk. He jumped, and hauled himself onto the stallion’s back, sliding one denim-clad leg over to the other side, gripping tight with his thighs and holding onto his mane with both hands to steady himself, keeping low to Sable’s neck.

Sable immediately bucked, but Dean held on. He could tell the horse was already exhausted by heat and exertion; he couldn’t keep this up for long. And he’d ridden enough bucking broncos in the rodeo to know how to stay on an angry horse, saddled or not. He could feel Sable’s breath and his heartbeat, and risked taking one hand from his mane to pat his neck.

‘It’s all right boy,’ he murmured. He didn’t think the horse could understand him, but he wanted Sable used to the sound of his voice, and he’d found in the past a soothing tone often helped.

Sable bucked again, harder than before.

Helped often, not always.

‘Now boy,’ he said, and wrapped one arm half around the stallion’s thick muscular neck. ‘You know there ain’t no point to this.’

And maybe the horse did understand him after all, because, after one more buck, Sable settled down. Cautiously, Dean let go of his neck, lifted himself into a more upright posture, squeezed his thighs, and gave his mane a gentle tug. Sable started to walk, then trot, and then, as Dean leaned over slightly to one side, he turned, and made a circuit of the paddock.

As he swept past the gate, Dean glanced up and saw Rufus staring, open-mouthed.

‘Well I’ll be damned…’ said the old ranch-hand.

Behind him, Jimmy was staring too, his eyes wide as saucers.

Then he came to the Omega kids, who had all climbed onto the fence for a better view. The two girls were grinning appreciatively, but the boy – Sal – was looking at him like he was a miracle.

Dean couldn’t help himself. He let go of Sable’s mane with one hand, pulled the hat from his head, and gestured with it as he dipped into a shallow bow towards the kid.

The two girls immediately giggled and clapped, but the boy just kept looking, utterly transfixed. Dean would swear to himself he actually saw him swallow. He jammed the hat back on his head, and flashed him a grin.

 

***

 

Sal kept watching Dean and Sable so intently he forgot to blink, until the dust started stinging his eyes. Then he blinked as rapidly as he could, and concentrated again on the sight before him, leaning into the fence with one of the cross beams pressed against his groin so nobody could tell exactly how much he was enjoying it.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as hot as the scene that had just played out in his family’s own field. Sable was the fiercest horse he’d ever known, had bitten and kicked every experienced ranch hand, and now here he was trotting obediently round the paddock with this young Alpha – this _gorgeous_ young Alpha, Sal admitted to himself – on his back. No saddle, no bridle, no stirrups… nothing but two creatures, one in control of the other. Sal tried not to examine his feelings too closely. Christ he needed to get his blood circulating around his body again, he couldn’t stay pressed against the fence all day.

He closed his eyes and thought very hard about roadkill, and vomit, and cockroaches.

‘You all right, Sal?’ Celeste asked him, and nudged him with her elbow.

‘I’m fine,’ he croaked. ‘I think – the heat – need a cold drink.’

‘Why don’t we go back to the house and make some lemonade?’ said Jess. ‘You could ask your new ranch hand in for a drink.’

The new ranch hand. Inside his house. Sitting on the same furniture he sat on. Drinking lemonade. The thought made Sal feel dizzy and faint, although that could have been the lack of blood in his head. But in his parents’ absence he was the master of the Singer ranch, and what kind of host would he be if he didn’t offer some kind of refreshment.

‘Sure,’ he said, his voice even croakier than before. ‘Let’s do that.’

‘We should make some tea as well,’ said Celeste.

‘Great,’ said Jess, and jumped down from the fence. Celeste followed her, and then Sal climbed down more carefully, dusting down his pants and taking the opportunity to rearrange himself as subtly as he could manage. He cleared his throat and then spoke more loudly.

‘Rufus, Jimmy,’ he said, ‘we’re going to make some drinks. You and, um, Dean, are welcome to join us on the porch.’

‘Sounds great,’ said Jimmy. Rufus just shrugged.

Twenty minutes later, and Sal was playing mother on the porch, pouring fresh lemonade and iced sweet tea from two jugs into a collection of entirely non-matching tumblers with slightly shaking hands, hoping fervently that Dean and the others would think any tremors were entirely due to the heat and not to the fact that this Alpha was sitting close enough to smell.

Which wasn’t actually that close, to be fair, as the aromas of sweat and horse and horse sweat coming off him were pretty pungent. Taming horses in the Texas sun was hot work.

Dean gratefully accepted a glass of lemonade and drank it in more or less a single gulp while Sal tried not watch his throat working. He made a wordless ‘ah’ of refreshment and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Sorry,’ he said with a grin. ‘Thirsty work.’

‘Would you like a top up?’ Sal asked, his voice sounding a little squeaky.

‘Sure would. Could I trouble you for some tea this time?’

Sal handed him a glass of tea, and as he drank it – a bit more sedately – said to him all in a rush ‘You were amazing with that stallion I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Dean grinned around at the whole group, who were mostly watching him. Then he shrugged modestly and said ‘It’s what I do.’

‘Well,’ said Rufus, ‘when the elder Mr Singer gets back, we can talk about you staying here a little longer and doing more of it.’

Dean smiled again, and this time, Sal felt like the smile was just for him. ‘I’d like that very much,’ he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments welcome as ever!   
> Just so you know, I'm going to do some more in-depth planning of the next stage of this fic so it'll probably be a while before the next update BUT it will be a larger update. Thank you for your patience!!


	15. The Greenest Eyes in Texas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal starts riding lessons with the new ranch hand. Dean wonders if Azazel has left a trail here before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific content warnings for this chapter.

The Greenest Eyes in Texas

 

Dean enjoyed himself that afternoon, sitting on the Singer porch, drinking alternate glasses of lemonade and iced tea, eating snacks when they were produced from inside the kitchen, and watching the people around him.

Who were mostly either watching him, or watching each other watch him. His young host – Sal – kept his glass topped up so regularly it was clear he was paying attention to every sip he took. But he didn’t seem able to meet his eye, glancing away whenever Dean looked in his direction, bangs falling into his face, shy as the virgin he almost certainly was. Dean noticed that he had a mole to one side of his cute turny-uppy nose, and another one on his chin.

Jimmy, meanwhile, was watching him with unashamed or at least unpreventable hunger, like a man kept alive on a diet of dry bread looking at a juicy hamburger. Rufus kept glancing between the Alpha and the Omegas, clearly uncomfortable and reluctant to go and take a leak no matter how much tea he’d poured down his throat. Did he think Dean was going to knot them all at once the second he turned his back? Dean sighed inwardly at that complete lack of faith in his self-control.

Rufus seemed especially keen to keep an eye on the two girls, who were – Dean gathered – friends of Sal. Although Dean couldn’t help noticing that they seemed more interested in each other than they did in him, which wasn’t something he was used to.

The talk was slow and mostly about horses, which suited him. He leaned back in his chair, sharing various opinions gathered from his wide-ranging experience. Jimmy drank in everything he said, but Rufus often disagreed. Dean let him - he’d already shown he could tame that supposedly untameable horse, and there’d be time enough later to prove himself right in other respects.

During a lull in conversation while Sal refilled his glass of tea yet again, Dean decided to try and learn a little more about his new employer’s son.

‘So, Sal, what horse do you ride?’ he asked.

To his surprise, Sal put the pitcher down abruptly, and blushed. ‘I, um, I can’t ride,’ he mumbled.

‘You can’t ride?’ Dean repeated, too incredulous to think about being polite. ‘But you live on a ranch! Whyever not?’

Sal stared at the bowl of potato chips in front of him and mumbled something unintelligible.

‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that,’ said Dean, trying to speak as gently as possible to make up for his shocked outburst of a moment before.

‘Um, I’m nervous of horses.’

‘They’re not all like Sable, you know. I’m sure you could find one that would suit you. An Omega mare, perhaps.’

To his surprise, Sal shuddered, before mumbling apologetically. ‘I, er, I mean my sister. She had an accident. Thrown off. By an Omega mare. Got spooked. Ten years ago now. I know it’s stupid, but still…’

‘I get it,’ said Dean. ‘Something scares you bad enough, you don’t forget it. Especially when you’re young.’

Sal snuck him a quick grateful look from under his bangs.

‘And if you do decide you want to try learning to ride after all,’ Dean went on, ‘I’d be happy to teach you.’

Jesus, he thought, where had that come from? You need to tread carefully here. But the smile Sal flashed him…

Rufus apparently agreed with his inner critic. ‘Steady on, cowboy,’ he said. ‘I don’t think Sal’s ready for a bareback bucking bronco.’

 ‘I’ve taught at a riding school in Connecticut, I know what I’m doing,’ Dean retorted. ‘Saddles and everything.’

Rufus snorted. ‘Well, it ain’t up to me to decide,’ he said, in a voice which implied that it damn well ought to be.

Just then came the noise of a truck pulling up the drive.

‘My mom and dad are home,’ said Sal, sounding half-relieved and half-disappointed. He stood up and went down from the porch to greet them.

Soon, Dean found himself introduced to Bobby and Ellen Singer, the owners of the ranch and his prospective new employers. They were much as he would have expected – Bobby a crusty bearded old redneck with squinty suspicious eyes and a battered baseball cap, Ellen a tough-looking blonde woman with, if anything, even more suspicious eyes. They were both Betas, which did surprise him – Elkins had told him that, in horses at any rate, a male Omega could only be produced by the union of a male Alpha and a female Omega, and he’d always figured it worked the same in humans.

His other surprise was the girl they had with them, introduced as their youngest daughter, Bela. A young Beta, small and dark-haired, who looked nothing like either of her parents, or like her brother for that matter. She was pretty; but what Dean really noticed about her was the look in her eyes. He’d seen that look too many times in his life: the haunted look of someone who’d seen something they wished they hadn’t, and could never unsee.

What had she seen?

Abruptly he remembered why his father had sent him here. Not to flirt or tease or ride horses or give lessons, but to track Azazel. Privately, he resolved he would talk to Bela as soon as he safely could, and find out what had given her that look.

Nobody else seemed to notice anything amiss about her, so he could only assume they’d already gotten used to her looking that way. How long had it been for her? What nightmare had been chasing her?

He heard his name, realized Rufus was telling Bobby and Ellen about his taming of the stallion, and snapped his attention back to the here and now. Rufus told the tale in a grudging fashion, but his lack of enthusiasm was more than made up for by Jimmy and Sal.

‘It was amazing! You should have seen it!’ Sal put in, as Rufus described how Dean had ducked underneath Sable.

‘Best riding I’ve ever seen,’ said Jimmy, as Rufus told them about Dean’s triumphant lap of the paddock.

Neither Bobby nor Ellen seemed entirely convinced, but Bobby looked him up and down and said ‘Very well, I guess we can give you a chance as a ranch hand, if you’re willing to work hard at whatever we tell you.’

‘I sure am,’ said Dean.

‘You can live above the stables, we’ve got a few rooms up there. It ain’t fancy.’

‘Suits me.’

‘We’ve got three young daughters, and a shotgun. I’m sure I don’t need to spell out the connection to you.’

‘No, sir.’

Dean suppressed a grin. He was in.

 

 

***

 

 

Sal wasn’t usually awake at this hour of the morning, (and certainly not in the school holidays) but Dean had told him they should get the riding lesson started early, before the heat of the day set in. And he figured Dean knew what he was talking about.

He’d hoped to have some time to himself, but Ruby and Jo were already in the kitchen, around the coffee pot, complaining that they’d missed the arrival of the handsome new ranch hand and his taming of Sable.

‘Oh, here comes Sal, suddenly keen to learn to ride after all these years,’ said Ruby. Sal just shrugged and poured himself some coffee, not rising to the bait.

‘It doesn’t seem fair,’ said Jo. ‘Why should Sal get to spend his morning with the new alpha male, just because he was too lame to learn to ride as a kid?’

Sal felt she was hardly being fair herself, but decided to ignore her in favour of rummaging in the fridge, which seemed more likely to be productive. Ruby laughed and sang softly ‘the greenest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight’.

‘Shut up,’ said Jo.

Ruby laughed again. ‘Honestly,’ she said, ‘one handsome Alpha guy arrives, and the whole ranch goes stupid. Jimmy’s done nothing but mope since he got here, and you two aren’t much better.’

Sal grabbed some granola-topped yogurt and retreated from their continued bickering to eat his breakfast in the parlor and in peace. His stomach was fluttering badly enough as it was, without being teased as well.

He put on a riding helmet before leaving the house – it made him feel like kind of a dork, but after what had happened all those years before he didn’t want to take any chances with head injuries. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to think about that accident: but when he got out to the paddock, he was startled to see which horse Dean had saddled up ready for him and was leading around.

Daisy. The very horse which had caused Bela and Ellen’s accident. He nearly turned round and went straight back to the house – but before he could, Dean spotted him.

‘Hey Sal,’ he said, a smile breaking his face, and Sal couldn’t help smiling back. He walked slowly into the paddock, his legs feeling wobbly. Was he frightened – or was it the effect of that smile? A bit of both, most likely.

‘Are you sure about the horse?’ he asked, as he approached.

‘I know she’s a bit on the small side, but she’s the most docile in your stable,’ answered Dean, rubbing her nose. ‘And I’ve found Omega horses usually take better to Omega riders.’

Sal swallowed. Daisy seemed placid enough under Dean’s strong hands, but still… ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but… she’s the one. The reason I never learned to ride.’

Dean raised his eyebrows. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

Sal looked at his face, and rapidly decided that was a mistake. Dean had freckles scattered across his nose and his cheeks, like tiny kisses from the sun. _And he really does have the greenest eyes in Texas_. _Or in any state._ He pushed away the irrelevant thought and fixed his eyes instead on Daisy. He mumbled something about it being a long time ago and he didn’t want to make a fuss.

‘Listen, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ said Dean, his voice gentle, ‘but I think it would help me to understand where you’re coming from, if I knew what happened. I could teach you better, if I knew what you’re afraid of.’

‘All right,’ said Sal, sucking in his breath, ‘but promise not to laugh.’

‘I promise.’

‘It was ten years ago,’ said Sal. ‘Almost exactly. Mom was taking Bela out for her first long ride, and Bela was riding Daisy. They said they were going up to the old crossroads. They said they’d be back by lunchtime, but they didn’t get back until the evening. Mom was – there was a lot of blood.’

‘The old crossroads?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sal, glancing up. It seemed like a strange detail for Dean to pick. ‘It’s where two of the old county roads cross, right at the edge of our land. Near the Rocket Fuel diner.’

Dean nodded slowly.

‘But I don’t think that matters, does it?’ said Sal, fixing his eyes back on Bela. ‘Mom said, something spooked Daisy, she threw Bela and charged into Cheyenne – that’s the mare Mom was riding – and threw her too. Mom cracked her head on a rock, lost consciousness. She could have died.’

He shuddered.

‘Do you know what spooked her?’ Dean asked. Sal shook his head.

‘And do you know what Bela did while your mom was unconscious?’

Another odd question. Sal guessed it was some horse-expert thing he didn’t really understand. He shook his head again. ‘The horses ran off,’ he said. ‘It took Dad a long time to track them down. I dunno how far they got.’

‘All right,’ said Dean. ‘Thank you for telling me. I think we’ll stick to just walking around the paddock for today. I’ll hold the reins all the time, and if something bothers Daisy, I’ll make sure she stays calm.’

And Sal believed him. Dean’s touch, he thought, would probably calm anything. Well, maybe not quite anything.

Dean helped him into his saddle, made a few corrections to his position (‘Eyes up, sit back a bit, try to relax’) and then they set off. Daisy went at a pace which probably seemed laughably slow to an experienced rider, but Sal felt his heart hammering in his chest nonetheless. How much of that was the terror of being on horseback after so many years, and how much was the presence of the young Alpha, close enough to scent his musk when the breeze caught it, he didn’t know. Dean kept offering encouragement, patiently leading Daisy round and round the paddock, despite the fact that it must have been a pretty boring exercise from his point of view. Sal watched his broad shoulders. Every now and again, Dean turned his head and flashed him a smile, which on the one hand was awesome, but on the other hand made Sal feel light-headed so didn’t much help his nascent riding skills.

After what felt to Sal’s unaccustomed thighs like a very long time, but to his heart like barely any time at all, Dean stopped Daisy at the edge of the paddock.

‘I think that’s enough for your first day,’ he announced. ‘You’ve done really well. Perhaps tomorrow we can go a little faster.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Sal, privately relieved simply to have got through the session without tumbling from the saddle.

Dean helped him down – Sal staggered a little as his feet touched the ground, and Dean had to catch him by the elbows.

‘Careful,’ he said, ‘you’ll be a little stiff until you get used to it.’

A little stiff. Sal smiled nervously and felt himself blushing. Reluctantly, he tore himself away from Dean’s grip and started walking back toward the house, looking forward to a cold drink and some time to himself with one of the pages of The Adventures of Orion and Ophelia which fell open most easily. His legs felt strange beneath and he wondered if he was walking bow-legged like Dean did.

‘Same time tomorrow?’ Dean asked him.

Sal looked over his shoulder, aware that his manners had deserted him but not wanting to move any more than necessary. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Sure. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Dean smiled at him again, and produced a small apple from his pocket which he started feeding to Daisy, stroking her nose with his other hand and whispering nonsense to her half under his breath. Sal felt weirdly jealous of the horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thank you so much for sticking with this fic despite my massively slow and erratic posting schedule. (I'm still committed to it, I've just had A LOT to deal with irl). Comments, as ever, are very welcome.


	16. Picnic at the Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sal and Dean go for a ride to one of Sal's favorite spots, where Sal makes a strange discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.

Picnic by the Creek

 

Dean told himself he needed to stay longer at the ranch to investigate further, that the haunted look in Bela’s eyes and the electrical storms and the scattered reports of dead cattle in this area meant he had to stay here to track down Azazel. The truth was, he kept finding excuses not to leave, and not to finish looking into what had happened to Bela. The hard work in the sun left him tired out. His work kept him busy, and he couldn’t ride up to the old crossroads without a good excuse. He couldn’t get too close to Bela without rousing the anger of the ranch owner and his shotgun. He had to finish breaking in Sable. He had to keep giving riding lessons to Sal…

The truth was, he enjoyed life at the Singer ranch, and he wanted to stay there as long as he could. He liked the work, he liked the country, and he liked the family. Part of him felt, rather wistfully, that if his mother and their ranch in Kansas had survived, his own life could have been more like this. And so long as his father was busy tracking down the Colt and left him alone, he could imagine that he could make a life here, riding under the blue Texas skies. Maybe even with a shy young Omega at his side. He knew it was a dream that could never come true, but that didn’t stop him dreaming it. Every day, he told himself he needed to do more investigation to justify his presence at the ranch, and every day, he put it off until tomorrow.

Finally, once his young pupil’s riding skills had improved a bit, he thought he’d figured out a good way to get himself up to the old crossroads to investigate further, without having to take any time out of his usual routine, or – he hoped – rousing any suspicions.

 

***

 

The lessons continued, Dean finding time almost every day despite being worked hard by Rufus. To Sal’s own surprise, he took to riding fairly well, and Daisy showed no sign of throwing him off. Perhaps the ten years she’d aged since the accident had mellowed her. Or perhaps it was Dean. Either way, Sal felt increasingly safe on her back. He still felt flustered and tongue-tied nearly all the time in Dean’s presence, but thankfully, Dean didn’t seem to notice – or if he did notice, he didn’t seem to mind.

After nearly every lesson, Sal retreated to his room, and dug out one of his Orion and Ophelia books. He’d memorized his favorite passages by now, but he still enjoyed reading the words. His fantasies had morphed somewhat – now, whenever he visualized Apollo and Artemis, Artemis faded into the background, while Apollo had bow legs and green eyes and freckles on his skin, and spoke in a soft deep voice, gently telling him how to ride, how to grip his body between his legs and lean back and relax as he sank down onto him…

The fantasies didn’t exactly make it any easier to meet Dean’s eyes the next day, but Sal couldn’t help himself. He’d never met an Alpha like Dean before. The rest of the Alphas he’d known – like Brady at school, or Pamela at the bookstore – had been keen to throw their weight around, intimidate Omegas, assert their dominance. Dean didn’t need to. True dominance, Sal realized, didn’t need to be asserted – it just _was_.

One hot Sunday morning, he went down to the paddock, to see that Dean had saddled up not only Daisy, but also Dart, the roan Alpha mare. She’d always been bad-tempered – though not nearly as bad-tempered as Sable – but with Dean’s hand on her bridle, she seemed as placid as still water.

‘I think you’re ready to go a bit farther,’ Dean said. ‘And I’ve got more time today. So I thought I’d ride alongside, and we can explore together. I’ve even packed us some lunch in the saddle bags.’

‘Lunch. Sure. That’s great,’ said Sal, hoping his voice didn’t sound too squeaky.

‘I thought we could head up to the crossroads,’ said Dean. ‘I hear that diner does great chocolate malts. If you ride well, I’ll buy you one.’

‘Not to the crossroads,’ Sal replied, too quickly.

Dean’s face fell, but he recovered his composure quickly. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘where do you wanna go?’

‘Um, how about we go to the creek? It’s not that far, but it is cooler there. There’s a pool where I swim sometimes. Even sleep there, when the nights get really hot.’

Sal smiled, then flushed. Dean didn’t need to know where he slept, nor how hot he sometimes got, in the middle of the night, waking up after dreams of fire or chains bathed in sweat and achingly hard.

‘Ok,’ said Dean. ‘The creek it is.’ He hauled himself onto Dart, leaving Sal to mount Daisy alone. Sal’s riding had improved so that he could now get onto a horse unaided, although sometimes he wished he still needed Dean’s help, so he’d have an excuse for the Alpha’s strong hands to touch him.

They set off. It didn’t take long for the heat of the Texas sun to become oppressive. The horses flicked their tails and ears despondently, their flanks streaked with sweat. Sal felt sweat trickling down his face and his back and making his hands damp where he grasped the reigns. He was too hot to talk, and almost too hot to think. At least they weren’t going to the crossroads – he didn’t know why Dean was so keen to head up there, but he did know that no chocolate malt was good enough to risk riding that way on Daisy, however calm she seemed now.

By the time they reached the creek, Sal was itching – literally – to tear all his clothes off and jump in the cool water. He climbed down from the saddle, stretched his aching body, and then realized that of course he hadn’t thought to bring his swim shorts with him.

That didn’t seem to bother Dean. He jumped out of his own saddle, tied Dart to a tree within reach of the water with a hasty knot, then stripped down to his underwear and ran into the creek, splashing his face.

‘That feels good!’ he called, then beckoned to Sal. ‘Come on in!’

Sal gulped, his eyes helplessly drawn to the water running in rivulets down Dean’s chest and arms. His torso was much whiter than his face and neck and hands, and Sal could see a scattering of freckles across his shoulders. His wet boxers clung to him, revealing the outline of his –

Sal looked away hastily, and then climbed down from Daisy, very carefully. He took plenty of time to tie her up, concentrating on the ground.

A glint of something caught his eye. Something golden, half-buried in the dirt. He bent down to investigate – anything to try and keep his attention off Dean and persuade his blood to reach his head before he fainted.

He figured it was probably just a bottle cap or some similar piece of garbage, but as he brushed the dirt off it, he saw it was actually a piece of jewelry. An old amulet, shaped like a stylized face, with curved horns and a spiral design on the forehead. He didn’t recognize it – had never seen anything like it before. And when he picked it up, he felt a strange kind of tingle from it, like it had some power inside it, lying dormant.

It was attached to the remnants of a leather thong, now half-rotted. Sal pulled the scraps of leather away, and blew off the rest of the dirt as best he could. He held it up, wondering where on earth it had come from, and what he should do with it.

‘Sal? You all right?’ Dean called from the creek.

Sal closed his hand around the amulet. Somehow, he felt like he didn’t want Dean to see it. Not yet.

‘I’m fine, yeah,’ he called back. ‘I just need to, um, go to the bathroom.’

‘Sure. Don’t want you taking a piss in the creek.’

Sal stuffed the amulet in his pocket and went into the bushes to find a private spot. Once he found one, he got his dick out – but he didn’t take a piss. Instead, he jerked himself off. It took an embarrassing short time for him to come, but at least it got rid of the erection that had been pressing against the inside of his jeans, and he felt slightly more ready to face Dean again.

Of course, it didn’t help that the image he’d just jerked off to was Dean, wet and half-naked.

Back at the creek, he stripped off down to his boxers before he could either lose his nerve or his erection could return, and charged into the water. As he knew it would be, it was deliciously cool on his over-heated skin. He and Dean splashed each other a few times, and swam up and down in the small pool. Then they stretched themselves out to dry in the sun, which didn’t take long.

To Sal’s mixed disappointment and relief, Dean put his clothes back on as soon as he was dry, mumbling something about not having any sunscreen and better not get burnt. While Sal pulled on his own clothes, Dean rummaged in his saddle bags and produced the promised food.

‘It’s not much,’ he said, putting it down next to Sal. ‘I was kinda thinking we’d be up at the diner and could get some extra stuff.’

The picnic consisted mostly of potato chips and PB&J sandwiches, washed down with slightly warm Coke.

‘This is cool,’ said Sal, ‘although I’d have liked some more fruit and salad.’

‘I’ve got apple pie.’

Sal smiled. ‘As well as apple pie. It’s important for me to eat plenty of fresh fruit and veg.’

‘That so?’ asked Dean. They were lying together on a horse blanket, each propped on one elbow, facing each other.

‘Yeah,’ said Sal, and ducked his head slightly, letting his bangs fall into his eyes. Being so close to Dean, eating the food he’d provided – it was both delicious and painful. ‘I mean, it’s important for everyone, but especially for me. Because I’m – well,’

He found he didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to draw attention to the difference between them.

‘Sure,’ said Dean, saving him the bother. ‘I get it. I’ll remember for next time to pack some salad and stuff.’

 _Next time_ , thought Sal. He nodded and mumbled ‘Thanks.’

‘Is there anywhere else you want to ride to?’ Dean asked him. ‘A bit further, maybe?’

‘Wherever you want to go,’ said Sal. ‘But not the crossroads.’

‘Do you mind me asking why not?’

Sal sighed a little. ‘I know it probably sounds stupid,’

‘It doesn’t,’

‘But that’s where Daisy got spooked that time. I just – don’t want to risk it.’

Dean looked a little disappointed for a moment, then smiled. ‘That’s fine,’ he said, ‘we can go somewhere else. Doesn’t really matter where, does it? So long as we’re riding.’

Sal smiled back.

 _No_ , he thought, _it doesn’t matter where, so long as I’m with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments always appreciated!


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